#(it also took ages to write jfc)

[shehungthemoon]

Just dumping my Ina Paha thoughts here. 🙃

First of all I did NOT know it was the 100th episode going into this, so i was very confused watching the montage at the end lol

I also had to click out and make sure I didn't click the wrong episode when the Pilot started playing at the beginning. When I heard Danny's voice on the phone instead of Hesse's I swear I got whiplash

It's filmed so well (bar where they reshot the pilot where Steve gets Danny on the phone instead of a dead dad, in which they literally forgot to put the same filter over the scene to make the stitching coherent) and I absolutely love the camera work they did with the white-room and the video projections. It felt very much a level above normal network television cinematography, especially the parts where Steve's going in and out of the hallucinations.

Steve finally FINALLY killing Wo-Fat was so cathartic, it should have happened ages ago but I'm willing to look past all the dumb ways he survived just to allow this incredible ending to his story.

Ina Paha gave me Kono doing... this. I owe Grace Park my whole life. Pls costuming department put her in hot pink again 💗

yes, it was a Steve episode. but Danny REALLY shone, first as the only resident Actual Detective figuring out what happened to Steve by the tire-tracks, rampaging through the compound steadily and efficiently and knocking people off without a pause, and then in Steve's mind shooting Hesse's kneecaps off?!?!?! That was CRAZY and probably not suppose to be as hot as it was and definitely made me want an ex-mobster AU immediately. Basically I have a competency kink and really like badass!danny shit 😊

Seeing Chin's long hair again made me swoon

My jaw dropped when I saw Jenna! I think it's really interesting that Steve still thinks of her so much, and I was surprised that she showed up in both the actual dreams and the montage. I definitely underestimated how much she impacted Steve's life, it seems, and I hate that we'll never hear him address that and we'll only know about it inadvertently like this.

(hand over the heart for how lori got like. one team shot. poor girlie.)

⭐I took the montage at the end as being flashbacks and memories that Steve was having as he left the compound. Looking at it through that lens certainly makes one unwell.

Obligatory squeal for Adam appearing just to save the day :))) look below to see the love of my life! :)))))) ⬇⬇⬇

Of course, the obligatory mcdanno bullet(s). It writes itself! The way Danny said Steve's name so small and broken when he found him. The way they look at each other on the ground, the pain their faces. I need an official apology statement from Scott and Alex for it. Can we talk about what flashes by during the montage at the end? (IMO it being Steve's memories.) So much Danny.

The first thing is Danny and Steve's first meeting. Jfc. The showrunners milk it SO MUCH and who's complaining

The big, rocking hug. The hands clasping underground. Gracie of course. And then Danny collapsing from the bioweapon, which to be honest I was NOT expecting to see at all--it felt like a genuinely strange choice to include in there and it really ONLY makes sense if you go along with all that being what Steve's remembering. Even then, I was surprised to see it, so basically this is Hawaii Five-Oh making mcdanno gayer than even I was wanting them to be. Steve still thinks about that? From so long ago? Even with so many other close calls in between then and now? Good fucking lord ok then loverboy that's WILD. Canon accepted ig this show is just pure whump.

Danny goes through all of this just days after losing his brother and killing Reyes. JFC can we please address that. I need a 30k introspection fic to let me into this man's mind rn.

The Wo Fat v.s. Steve fight at the end was INCREDIBLE. I would love to give the choreographer's hand a shake, it's some of the best work I've seen on television in a long time. It was impressive for a procedural like this. It was long and physical and you truly didn't know what the outcome was going to be; it everything that their built-up relationship deserved for a conclusion. It also happening with a Steve coming off of hours of torture and drugging was crazy (guess we finally know who would win a PVP if they were both at full strength!). That being said I was really impressed with Wo Fat's capabilities and physical prowess, I was not expecting it to be so even and close to the line. I actually jumped when Steve LIFTED him up into the lighting fixture. We do not talk about Steve's (Alex's???) raw upper-body strength enough.

Anyway. Electricity in the water play. The physicality hell that this gif below is ⬇. Fire extinguishers and loaded needles. Crazy martial arts. Chair and buckets (holy shit did y'all see the force with which Wo Fat SHOT that bucket?????) flying. All's fair. I loved it.

The shot going right through the forehead, clean. I don't know how to put into words why that's so monumental to me but it is.

The mystery bad lady was SO intriguing, I wish we got more from her... How does she know Wo Fat? Why was she entrusted with all that information on him and Steve and especially Doris? Absolutely where did she come from, what was her name? Why did I have a huge huge hot crush on her? All important questions. (Goes to show that h50 CAN give us some more genuine badass, not just there to date someone women characters, just explicitly choose not to. I'm holding out for Ellie to remain platonic so hard right now.)

Almost forgot Danny in that black Hawaiian shirt. Will be whimpering over that image forever. The whole episode I was trying to focus on the underlining betrayal mystery they were laying out but every time my brain started working too hard Scott with his stupid waist and those flower patterns just started flashing into my head

Again, are you seeing this:

I'm unwell and so so happy.

H50 you're a gem when you want to be.

[sugar-omi]

(swiftie asker) "he was the sweet lemonade you wanted for a summer but cove was the water you needed" OH OKAY. OH OKAY. YOU LITERALLY COULD'VE JUST TAKEN MY STILL BEATING HEART AND THROWN IT INTO A FOOD PROCESSOR AND IT WOULD'VE HURT LESS THAN THAT. WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK DUDE

the idea of baxter filling the "other woman" archetype is so bittersweet because he doesn't even show any hints that he's upset about it. he's just so very good at reassuring others that everything's fine, that the day is meant to be about them and that he's here to make their special day perfect. but who's going to be there for him? who's going to be more than just his summer love? who's going to realize they still love him in the fall?

reminds me of some of taylor's new music from ttpd ... fortnight (the first track) is such a baxter song because like . fleeting love? the one that got away? "thought of calling ya, but you won't pick up" referring to baxter ghosting mc for five years? "i took the miracle move-on drug; the effects were temporary" referring to baxter trying to make himself as temporary as possible so mc would forget about him easily - and it not working? "i love you, it's ruining my life"? "i touched you for only a fortnight"? "all of this to say, i hope you're okay - but you're the reason"? "and for a fortnight there, we were forever"???? i'm sorry but it's literally him.

ahhhh i don't mean to constantly send in walls of text but i've been a fan of yours for a long ass time and i'm so glad you like my silly little ideas!! i look up to you a lot as a writer so it makes me really happy that you're willing to entertain my thoughts haha

"who's going to realize they still love him in the fall" OH MY GOD.... just snatch my heart up n squeeze it omg...

that song is so him. i listened to it like 3 times and it's so HIM. also "i love you, it's ruining my life" is the best fucking way to describe how I FELT AFTER PLAYING BAXTER'S DLC. the pain, the way he delicately then cruelly rejects you when you ask for more.

that'd be exactly what he was trying to avoid. it's why he didn't go further with you in the cabin, and it's why he keeps up the appearance of someone put together and strong, mysterious and a whirlwind. so much so you can't put up with it for more than the summer.

gives you the glitter and flare of a summer fling, gives you fun and excitement but deprives you of the intimacy, dodges the sensitive questions...

but you're too kind. always reaching out for him, pulling him into your small world, and he's too much of a sucker. falls for your sweet smile, your insistence that he joins your friends or family for activities. falls for you insisting that you need him, that you like him...

jfc i cannot ramble again, if anything im the one yapping your ear off LMAO. please i can ramble about baxter for DAYS. i love him but this man is the perfect angst bank and i can drag on for ages...

and please don't worry about writing long messages, even if i take awhile to respond, i love reading em so much. i was actually looking forward to what you had to say about my last response lol <3

n plus you know much more about taylor swift than i do, and the songs n stuff better. i mean i do check the lyrics n associate em n associate songs n stuff but i love how enthusiastic you are, it's very refreshing to me 😊

and omg you're so kind... ngl i cried a bit LOL i've never had someone say they look up to me n i didn't expect that, that's very sweet and i'm glad i'm good enough to be inspiring, i'm very happy to hear that🥹🫶

n i'm more than happy to listen to everyones thoughts, i think everything yall have to say is worthwhile and it's like you pluck some things straight out of my brain too 😂 i wish i could spend all day answering yall's thoughts and stuff, i get excited seeing more asks even though i cannot respond quickly

so thank you for sharing your thoughts <3 i look forward to more, n don't be afraid to dm me!!! yall are too sweet, so feel free to ask me anything 🥰

[pepper-steam-milkshake]

i think what people tend to forget (seeing all these posts on my feed atm) is at the end of the day, YOU curate your own fandom experience. there is ALWAYS going to be someone who makes content you dont like. there is a very good chance that someone whose content you do like will make content you dont like for one reason or another.

things to keep in mind?

the content someone creates is not indicative of their nature. for fuck’s sake how many times have you seen someone who looks and acts absolutely sweet and then makes the most fucked up cursed shit youve ever seen— and vice versa. the content they make is not their personality. jfc, if someone writes a story about fairies, are you gonna go, “oh, they’re secretly a fairy”? NO. so it would be appropriate to apply that to other content that you as an individual may find inappropriate

if you see something you dont like, instead of taking the time and energy to give hate to it, just walk away and leave it alone. why do you want to continue engaging with it. is fueling those few minutes of anger truly worth being an asshole? PEOPLE make content. thats right— people with feelings, emotions, experiences, memories, and lives of their own. someone took the time to write something, and then to not only write that thing but then share it with the world in spite of whatever lingering feelings they may have to it. if youre gonna shit talk, do it in private. dont do it right where the artist can see.

with today’s day and age, it is nigh impossible to avoid minors, and the same goes for adults. everyone finds their way into a space somehow. we’re all enjoying the content, and we’re all enjoying it in different ways for different reason. occasionally it’ll match up, but you cannot expect someone to share your opinions and your own view of morality. if you think murder is bad and you hate that someone keeps making the characters in your show kill people, the solution isn’t to say “youre a bad person and you shouldnt be okay with murder”. thats not the statement theyre making. also just leave them alone???

if you dont like the content and want to see something different, instead of suggesting that they make it differently, make it yourself. “i cant draw”— PRACTICE. drawing is a pain in the ass for me. im not great at it but i still practice because i want to make the content i want to see. “i cant write”—PRACTICE. experiment and try new things. “but its going to be bad”— MAKE IT BAD. everyone starts somewhere, and the only way to make your version of better is to improve on your version of bad.

just some thoughts

[desertfangs]

DA here, oddly specific poll for the ages!!! I mean the dancer thing lives in a penthhouse in my mind rent free because that's a WHOLE person they took care of for an undefined period of time like... what did he look like? what was the nature of their relationship with him? did they have any memorable nights out together? have they kept in touch with him or attempted to track him down in modern times? I have SO many questions. Anne was wild for that. But also! Armand gifting Daniel expensive jewerly, diamond tiara included (imagine Armand putting in on Daniel's head for the first time), them collecting "specimens" (I'm guessing animals/insetcs/spiders of some sort? plants?) and microscopes and obsessing over them, them just randomly interviewing people on the street (an overly excited teenager and a young reporter stop you in the middle of the street and start asking you insane questions?? for seemingly no reason??), Armand filming all kinds of weird shit ahem 👀🔥, them hanging out in Latin America for a while, going to fortune tellers/tea readers(?) in NYC... it just goes on and on and on jfc chapter of all time😭 

Oh my gosh, right, it really is a The Chapter of All Time. I fully admit I crowd-sourced some of the options for the poll and there are so many that I might have to do a second one!

The Dancer thing is so wild to me. It's just this throw away line and yet it could mean so many different things! Was it just some dancer they financially supported, Armand leaving envelopes of cash on their doorstep? Was this person a friend who hung out with them sometimes?

I'll tell you, I think it was someone who ran in the same social circles and I like that idea because as hectic and chaotic as their life together was during those years, I absolutely believe they had social circles in the art scene, people they routinely saw at galas and shows, people whose parties they attended, bars they frequented enough to be regulars. I spend so much time thinking about the connections they made, and even if they kept people at a distance, imagine the number of lives impacted? Of people who knew Armand and Daniel as that slightly odd couple who love art and music and conversation, even if one of them is often sneaking off to smoke a joint or hit the bar? I definitely think they left their mark. (And imagine how many of those people read QotD and thought like... how funny, aren't they like that couple we used to know who ran all over the city to see all of our art shows? I wonder if the author knows them?)

But that dancer, oi! That has kept me up at night for sure.

The tiara thing is so funny, I like to picture Daniel wearing it around for the rest of the night before he has to turn it in for cash. And like at that point, Daniel had been existing with and living with a vampire for what, 6-7 years? Like it's hardly the weirdest thing ever but having your boyfriend hand you priceless works of art and piles of jewels so you can fence them during the day... Daniel deserves whatever wedding ring Armand gets him post-canon.

The specimens and the science stuff is gold too! We talk a lot about Armand and gadgets but what about Armand and entomology and astronomy? Daniel and Armand did so much weird science! The camera thing is so funny too, like what I would pay to see those tapes (not even necessarily the smutty ones... but I'd also like to see those, thanks! 🥵) Just the idea of them standing on the street corner interviewing strangers and Daniel being like "I used to do this a job and now it's my immortal boyfriend's hobby." I think he enjoyed it though. Honestly I think Daniel enjoyed most of this stuff and had a blast with him, and it's part of why Daniel loves him.

The South America stuff too! The treasure hunting! The mansion in Florida they abandoned for the Night Island. All brilliant tidbits.

You could write a hundred fics to try and flesh all this stuff out and never be done. How Anne managed to pack so much into those pages is a mystery and an incredible feat for sure!

[mommytimmy]

Hi hello i know this is out of the blue but i need you to know that i just. Absolutely adore your art. All of it. Its so so gorgeous and delicate in just. An incredible way and if i could id print out every single piece and consume it like a 5 course dinner. Your tim is so so gender and the way you draw him is beautiful. Genuinely, your style makes me so so happy to see

omg 🥺🥺 I took a while to answer this because I couldn't think of an answer that wasn't (incoherent screaming).

I really like drawing pretty people and pretty men, and Tim is so special because he also brings a youthfulness to it, like his cheeks are soft and still a bit baby fat despite his Self Care Choices I think fljskahdjklsahd (if I were to age him up, I'd definitely keep the kind of looks that have people carding him to buy alcohol) 🙈

I keep thinking of the balance of drawing a pretty androgynous guy without relying on over-feminization, and I don't know! I think as a character Timmy should be confident in how he presents himself and therefore does absolutely deranged stuff with his fashion choices LMFAO like his Sticking Up Hair from old comics with the Gotham giants magenta shirts LMFAO I haven't drawn that, but it lives in my head rent free, he has so much range. OR how in GK he tucks his pants into his socks oh my god I want to shove him into a locker????

Tim doesn't know how cute he is even when he hasn't washed his sweater for 2 weeks fr... But definitely, I feel like I've drawn him when he's "produced" himself for the public (taking notes for future drawings)

Another super nice thing about getting into comics is that legitimately I can do whatever I want with Tim's design? If you look at my first drawings on this account, definitely the way I have been settling on drawing Tim has changed, and I keep thinking of ways to live my best life while also having Tim look like himself, and it's still a bit of a learning curve heheh I think the goal would be having people recognize him from a lineup of his siblings (which I have to get to btw, I really want to draw the Robins but crash into the wall of "I don't draw handsome people as well as I do pretty people" fjsahdjklsad)... which comics don't do btw, it's embarrassing how many times I've confused Tim and Dick? They should color code them like the power rangers jfc

I'm also glad (laying on the floor crying) to learn more anatomy even though I never actually show it lmfao I still draw it like some clown before drawing clothes over it, but drawing superheroes is SUCH a chance to learn how to draw!

All this to say, I draw ultimately to make myself happy, and I'm lucky enough that with a couple days of resting the eyes, I can look at my own drawings like someone else made them LOL it also makes me really happy other likeminded people can enjoy the drawings I make (while I also enjoy the fanworks they make; I love ur writing!) I'll keep doing my best to keep learning how to draw so we can have more things to enjoy together! 😤

[misguidedasgardian]

Holy shit theres so much that happened in this chapter jfc but before I get into all of that, I just want to say...

I CANNOT BELIEVE MAEKOR TOOK A PAGE OUT OF HARWIN STRONGS PLAYBOOK AND FATHERED A CHILD WITH A MARRIED WOMAN, YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY, LIKE FATHER LIKE SON 🤣🤣🤣

BUT OH MY GOD THIS CHAPTER WAS EPIC!!!

Now Maekor x Helaena wasn't a ship I was expecting but it's a pleasant surprise. Helaena deserves to be with someone who loves her and omg she named their child Maelor in honor of his father which is even cuter and AHHH I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE MORE OF THAT HAPPY FAMILY!

The scenes where Harwin kept grabbing onto his son bc of who he's meant to face in battle alone (which wtf you mean to tell me Rhaenyra didn't send anyone else to come and help?? Harwin even sent them a raven and nothing?!?!? OOOOO RHAENYRA IS IN DEEP SHIT NOW)

Now lets talk about the epic of entrances that has been entered in fanfiction...

OUR BADASS QUEEN WHO SHOULD'VE BEEN COMING IN HOT AND READY FOR BATTLE ON HER FRESHLY HEALED DRAGON GOING AFTER VHAGAR WHO WAS GOING AFTER ONE OF HER DRAGONLINGS

OH MY GOD THE BATTLE SCENE WAS FREAKING AWESOME, I MEAN RIP TO QUEEN VHAGAR BUT YOU WAS GOING AFTER MAEKOR AND HIS DRAGON AND THAT WAS A BIG NO NO

And then my second favorite part of this chapter was Helaena coming down to where they had congregated on Dreamfyre all confident and shit... I might start tearing up again 🤧 telling Aemond no more fighting and Aemond looking relieved that she was alive and that Aemma was alive made me want to give him a hug (after I slap the shit out of him for almost taking Reader out to begin with)

My last but not the least in the slightest part of this chapter definitely had to be the collective fuck 'em to both Rhaenyra & the Hightowers. The way they all decided to stop fighting for Kings and Queens they don't believe in anymore collectively as a whole family 😭😭😭😭 ITS SO BEAUTIFUL! THIS IS WHAT VISERYS WANTED, HIS FAMILY UNITED AND NOW THEY ARE. (hes probably not happy about the fuck Rhaenyra part but Aemma (the older one) is probably telling him off in the afterlife for making dumbass decisions and ignoring their other daughter who was the more obvious choice of being ruler)

My god I can't freaking WAIT for Reader to go to Dragonstone and fuck shit up 👊🏻👊🏻 I want a full blowout between the sisters and I want Reader to knock her ass OUT. MY THIRST FOR VENGENCE IS REAL!

P.S. The softer side of me also can't wait for Harwin and Reader's reunion as well 🥺🥺🥺

I loved this so much! Hahaha

Maekar and Helaena are the cutest if I might say so myself… they had love each other for ages, and Maekar likes his women a little older jiji (like two years but anyways)

I don’t even know what Rhaenyra was thinking 😂 she was protecting her own skin, because a naval battle was happening right off shore of Dragonstone and she was scared, she couldn’t tell anything to Daemon, and she hoped the Strongs (Rhaegar included) could figure it out on themselves

OH IM SO GLAD YOU LIKED IT! I thought it was being too rushed… the battle and all… IM SO GLAD 🥰🥰

Yes poor Vhagar, but for reader and Aemond means to leave a part of their lives behind… like for Aemond means a new beginning and for reader means killing a part, like a rotten part of her allegiances … something like that I suck at metaphors

Yeahh Helaena is getting confident about her “dreams” so she will start following on them, that is what feeling safe with her own dragonslings will make 💕 Poor Aemond what Otto put him trough only to manipulate him! What a Bastard!! He needs a therapist dude… imagine thinking the persons he loves the most are dead… only to be a lie! Anyways

The alliance that should have been from the beginning! Hahaha even though they will not fight for Rhaenyra and Aegon they still face an uglier opponent…

I’m thinking about writing an entire chapter about love reunions! Jajaja pure smuts 💕💕

Thanks my love for this amazing ask! Hahaha I read it a bunch of times! 💕💕

[steviespanties]

Since Steve’s parents are out of town so often, he and Billy have a habit of hooking up at Steve’s place. Steve’s room is nice and all, but Billy has a thing for fucking Steve in his mom’s bed;; ((HI I LOVE YOUR ACCOUNT AND YOUR STORIES THANK YOU FOR CREATING SUCH MASTERPIECES💖💖))

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH AND ALSO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO ANSWER THIS!!! (This sent me down an interior decorating rabbit hole trying to figure out what Steve’s mom’s bed- and then her own room might look like😅😂 Please imagine a layout similar to this, but with another window on the other side of the bed for more light. The ‘sofa’ and bed look a lot more like this, but the colors and style are more similar to this and this room.) 2.2k words, rated E. Steve POV, some manhandling, some frottage, some rimming and dirty talk. Anal sex. Ya know. My usual.

Steve’s parents have a big enough house (and are rich enough) that his mom has an entire bedroom for herself. She calls it her boudoir, because it’s where her walk-in closet is and where she keeps all her fancy makeup, lesser used jewelry and perfumes. There’s a massive four-poster bed with floor-length drapes matching the curtains, a chaise lounge, a vanity, all in creamy white and bathed in warm lamp light. 

Before he gets together with Billy, Steve doesn’t even think about it’s existence. It’s just another empty room, after all. The most he sees of the house are the entrance, kitchen, living room and the walk upstairs to his bedroom with his own bathroom. Hell, sometimes it slips his mind that he technically lives in what counts in Hawkins as a mansion.

Billy, however, becomes obsessed with the ‘boudoir’ in particular. 

The first time he's supposed to really stay over, not just crash in Steve’s room and fuck him into his bed at 3am, he steps through the front entrance, whistles after a survey of the hallway and goes “Aren’t you gonna show me around?”

“Yeah, sure. Just take a pair of house shoes from over there.” Steve gestures towards the shoe rack in question and Billy’s expression goes from amused to disbelieving.

“Seriously?”

Steve glares at him. “Yeah. Seriously. My parents put in new flooring over the summer and now everything has to look pristine for the two times a year they have visitors over.”

It's such an unnecessary, stupid rule to enforce all of a sudden when Steve has rarely worn shoes around the house anyways. 

He’s barefoot when it’s warm outside and leaves his shoes by the front door to change into thick wool socks during the cold months. And somehow, his parents still have found a new way to make him feel like he’s walking on eggshells in his own home.

Still, he watches Billy sullenly take off his shoes with growing amusement that gradually lightens the bad mood Steve’s gotten into just thinking about it. He figures he can give Billy a quick tour of the house and then order pizza. Watch a movie, fuck in an actual bed instead of getting each other off in the cramped backseats of their cars.

What happens instead is that Billy spends a ridiculous amount of time dragging Steve through his own home. He looks into guest rooms. Shoves his nose into cabinets. Looks out of windows like he’s staking out the neighborhood. (Woods. The neighborhood is mostly woods.)

“What are you, a spy?” Steve jokingly asks when Billy lifts up a painting to peek behind, like he’s looking for a safe. Billy scoffs, all mock-offended. But Steve can see a hint of a blush form on his cheeks. Gotcha. It’s kinda sweet how curious he is about the place, even if his main complaint is that it “feels like a show house.” Steve doesn’t have the heart to point out that he’s not too far off.

It’s when they step into his mom’s room that a predatory glint enters Billy’s eyes. “Ohh, is this where Mama Harrington sleeps?”

“Yeah. Sometimes. She wanted a room to get ready ‘in peace’. I’m pretty sure she just wants to drink prosecco in peace.” He watches Billy’s fingers trail over the fabric of one of the creamy white curtains framing the window. They part and his rings glint in the sunlight he’s suddenly bathed in. When he turns back around his hair is lit up gold and frames his head like a halo. Steve licks his lips. The fun thing about dating Billy is that he not only matches Steve in terms of libido, but seems to have a sixth sense for the moment Steve’s thoughts get distracted by his gorgeous everything.

Or maybe Steve just isn’t very subtle.

That glint in Billy’s eyes turns into hungry laser focus. Sets him into motion until he’s all pressed against Steve, a hot line of unrelenting muscle pushing him closer to the bed until they tip over and onto the mattress. Half hidden by more curtains hanging from the canopy. Sunlight follows them.

White teeth flash in an easy grin, quick and sweet, and then Billy’s lips are on Steve’s. His body weight pushes Steve into the creamy white bed cover and the air out of his lungs in a huffed laugh. Underneath him the texture of the blanket- distinct raised ribbing- digs into his skin. Billy’s hands dig into his hair.

The slick heat of Billy’s mouth and his thigh shoved between Steve’s legs is intoxicating. Makes it impossible to form a coherent thought when his focus narrows down on Billy on top of him, curls just long enough to fall down and tickle Steve’s face. He makes the most delicious sound when Steve grabs his ass and pulls him closer, till their hips are lined up just right. Steve pulls. Billy pushes. Like a conversation in a language purely made of heat and pressure, hitching breaths and choked moans. Against his own growing erection, painfully trapped in his jeans, he can feel Billy fill out as well. The pleasure is maddening. Enough to make Steve feel a burst of wetness pulse from his dick into his underwear. Enough to make him roll his hips up, searching for a better angle.

“Billy,” he sighs, not sure what he wanted to say afterwards. Just enjoys saying his name.  

“We’re wearing too many clothes,” Billy complains in response, like he picked up whatever thought Steve dropped in the minuscule space between them. They break out into a familiar flurry of limbs and discarded clothes. A condom packet and a small bottle of lube make it from Billy’s discarded jacket onto the comforter next to Steve’s head. He snorts.

“You sure you weren’t a boy scout at some point? Feels like you’re always prepared to get your dick wet.”

Billy rolls his eyes, fond smile belying his annoyance. “Shut up. Turn around.” His voice has taken on that deep, rough tone indicating how much he’s turned on. Steve leans back instead, takes his dick in hand. Enjoys the rough drag of his dry palm when he drags it up in a loose grip. Just enough to tease.  Billy raptly follows the movement. “Maybe I will if you ask me nicely.”

Oh, he loves this game. Put up a token bit of protest when Billy gets bossy, until he gets impatient and starts dragging Steve around until he’s nothing but putty underneath his hands.

“Show me your pretty hole, babe. I won’t ask again.” 

Steve’s dick pulses in his hand. He watches Billy with half-lidded eyes. The way his muscles shift, getting ready to move. Hungry and powerful, like a big wildcat.

In the next second, he’s on Steve. Makes him gasp out an involuntary yelp when he easily flips him and drags him up by his hips. Until he’s on his knees, face buried in the bed cover and hot breath suddenly ghosts over his hole. There’s barely enough time to reorient himself before the scratch of Billy’s mustache and the slick warmth of his tongue press into his crack.

“Ah, fuck yes.”

He’s never done this before Billy. Not with any of the girls he fucked or dated. Not with Tommy, who he’s traded sloppy, shameful handjobs and blowjobs with. He doesn’t think he can ever get enough of feeling Billy’s tongue on his rim, swirling around until he’s dripping with saliva. Pushing inside where he’s sensitive, pressure and stretch of his hole making him squirm and push his hips back immediately.

It’s almost embarrassing how greedy he is for Billy’s mouth on him. His lips wrapped around his dick. His tongue shoved deep into his hole, held in place by those warm hands on his asscheeks. Holding him open so Billy can get even deeper, making him moan and drool into the blanket beneath him. It’s like a pulse, curls into him till his dick pushes out another spurt of precome and he can feel himself twitch, heavy and aching between his legs.

A slicked up finger joins Billy’s tongue. Makes the stretch just a bit more intense, but still so, so good. Billy only comes up for air when he adds a second finger. Steve can feel him rest his cheek on his ass, probably watching the movement of his fingers up close. He seems to have a thing for the sight of Steve’s rim stretched, his hole filled up and glistening.

“Gonna make you a complete mess in your mom’s bed,” Billy huffs into his skin. “Gonna make you cry and cream yourself all over her sheets.” He thrusts deeper and stretches his fingers until they tug at Steve’s hole and he groans with the ache.  “Better get going then,” he tries to taunt. It falls flat with all that desperation laced through his words.  The thing is, provoking Billy only gets you so far. Steve can tease him into impatience, but once he’s fully grasped control, he revels in it. Basks in Steve’s frenzied, futile attempts at irritating him. Like he’s had his chance, but the game is already won.

Steve doesn’t mind losing that much anyways.

“Just you wait,” Billy says fondly.

All Steve can focus on for a while is that glorious, slick movement of Billy’s fingers. The way he pushes in and out of him, stretches his rim and his insides, rubs over that spot inside of him that makes him frantically claw at the textured bed cover underneath him. Just long enough to make him whine and push back, pulse around a third finger that stretches him even wider.

At some point, when he’s reduced to a sweat-slick line of tightly wound pleasure, he finds himself empty. Barely registers the sound of a ripped open condom wrapper. Warm, humid breath over his spine that wanders up up up until there’s lips and teeth on his shoulder and Billy’s cock slowly pushes inside.

There’s a growing spot of drool-wet fabric his face presses into that swallows some of his moans. When Billy moves, satisfied sighs and barely coherent praises tumbling from his lips, Steve grasps the bed cover tight. 

Billy’s hips find a rolling, unrelenting rhythm. The drag of his cock is a drug Steve can’t get enough of. Dreams about, just as much as he dreams about the tight heat of Billy around his dick.

He wishes he could turn around and admire Billy’s flushed face. Hold him between his spread legs. Get lost in his eyes and dizzy from his freckles. But Billy’s weight on his back and his mouth sucking hickeys into the back of his neck isn’t bad either. He tries to hold himself up, tries to concentrate on carrying that weight on his back, but with each thrust inside it’s like his knees spread wider and his elbows sink down until he’s pressed flat onto the bed. And then his dick makes contact with the bed cover and gets pushed right into it right along Billy’s thrusts.

“Ah!” The moan is embarrassingly loud. Louder than any other noise he’s made so far. Of course, Billy picks up on it.

“You gonna be a good boy and blow your load all over your mommy’s sheets?”

“Shut- shut up, fuck.” Billy just laughs, voice shot to hell.

Even if Steve wanted to, he can’t escape that mouthwatering pleasure the additional drag of rough fabric against his dick provides. Because even if he wanted to try, he can’t pull away from Billy’s weight on top of him. His heavy, thick cock inside of him that holds him open and fills him up.

He comes with a sob. Pushes his face harder into wet fabric. Pushes his dick through his own mess. Pushes his hips back to meet Billy’s thrusts, even when it becomes just a bit too much.

Billy rests his entire weight on him when he comes with a deeply satisfied groan. Through their aftershocks, he buries his face in Steve’s hair and they rest in companionable silence.

It’s not the last time they end up fucking on that bed, no matter how many times Steve complains about the laundry with flushed cheeks.

...

Steve isn’t enough of an idiot to not understand that Billy likes to fuck him in his mom’s bed because he likes the conquest of a room that’s ‘forbidden’. He’s the same at parties, likes to sneak into rooms he’s not supposed to be in. Likes the thrill of doing something nasty with Steve in a place his mom will walk into and never even suspect what’s happened.

And Billy? Billy doesn’t want to admit it, especially not to Steve’s face, but... the way Steve’s hair looks against the creamy-white sheets in his mom’s bedroom? The soft yellow glow of light, the blush that spreads from his cheeks down to his neck, to his chest faster than it does anywhere else- it’s addictive.

The best part, the one they both like a little too much is what happens afterwards. When the raised ribbing of the bed cover has left indents on Steve’s face where it’s been pressed down. On his arms and knees. On his back, where only Billy can see and trace it for the rest of the night, reverent and sweet.

[epersonae]

⭐ - wage wars get rich die handsome!! (Bc I'm blasting bleed out yet again)

one of my pet peeves, as you already know: when people write Ed and Izzy backstory and make them the same age, or WORSE, when they write Izzy as younger. It's INTERESTING to me, to think about the possible trajectories of these two people when the subordinate is almost a decade older than his boss, especially with [waves hands at whatever the FUCK Izzy has going on]. What is it like/what does it mean, that he's a wholeass adult getting into this coworker/failmarriage situation?

And then, also, I didn't want to make it shippy, because I just didn't, and then finally I wanted to look at it from Ed's point of view, because again: it's something I hadn't seen and was curious about exploring.

So I just kind of had this question curled around in my head, of them as adults (but Ed still relatively young) and what about it worked from Ed's perspective, at the outset? What red flags was he ignoring? What was useful to him about Izzy?

(other pet peeve of things I see in other fic: jfc Izzy was not part of the Hornigold crew are you fucking kidding me - so conceiving of something took that into account: probably my favorite line in the whole fic is Not going to miss deckhands getting broken ribs doing yardies - Izzy and Jack being enemies is funny as hell as far as I'm concerned)

And like CLEARLY as I was writing it I was working out some feelings about [redacted] and how that all got started, and if you wind back all the things that are terrible between two people, what they look like when you think maybe those same things are good, because you're young and you don't know any better.

I think if I wrote it again now, I'd probably have a slightly different take. (Sometimes I think about writing a totally different backstory where they meet up somewhat later than in Wage Wars, because that idea is also interesting in a different way; it changes the power dynamic, and I think might have a slightly more self-aware Ed?) But I still feel good about this piece, the kind of subtle tension of something that's ultimately doomed, I guess.

[mallowstep]

k i'm deleting the actual comment but let's look at this (from itcos):

Okay- so if you find bramble/squirrel wrong than wouldn't that have made fern/dust wrong? And fire/sand? Because before Dustpelt and Fern got together as warriors Dustpelt clearly liked Ferncloud. Fireheart liked Sandstorm when she was an apprentice. Also I should mention cloud/bright because when Cloudtail became a warrior brightheart was still an apprentice. (Yes I do know that brightpaw should have been made a warrior moons ago in that book). Also leaf/moth? Because at this point it's cannon. Leafpool was an apprentice when mothwing probably took a liking in her. Crow/feather? Feathertail was a warrior and Crowpaw was an apprentice. Feathertail was born in Forest of secrets and Crowpaw was born in the middle of darkest hour and midnight. Also im pretty sure that Squirrelfight was 8-9 moons old when that book was taking place.

i am allowing myself this much to say about ferndust: fireheart makes one comment about it, jfc. (i'm not responding to ANY other discussions of ferndust.)

sandstorm is literally older than fireheart

squirrel&bramble arguably get together when squirrel is still an apprentice. not really, but it's way too close to comfort, and way closer than both previous examples.

ONCE AGAIN, BRIGHTHEART IS OLDER THAN HIM

like way to demonstrate ZERO critical thinking. the problem is pretty fucking obviously the way bramble is ACTIVELY trying to get with an APPRENTICE who's MUCH YOUNGER than him and doing it in a SUPER MANIPULATIVE way while also being a DICK to her.

leafmoth is regrettably not canon. also, wait, this is pissing me off. LEAFPAW expresses interesting in mothwing, and she literally feels like mothwing doesn't reciprocate. there's a huge amount of angst about how leafpaw is just an apprentice and mothwing doesn't care about her. jsfdlkjs;afkjl;.dasfj dl;kjfdsljk;.dsalfkj;dslk;sfdj. i can't believe this shit. between "there's no mothpool age gap" (there definitely is, it's fucking huge?) and now this i'm so done. i need to write some mothpool god fucking damn. my mothpool is excellent please ignore all mothpool i've written before now because none of it is very true to how i think abt them or how i want to write them. i mean the mothpool i'm working on now is a deliberate inversion (even if i'm getting REALLY into passerine...yes mothwing be so gay that leafpool brushing her tail against you keeps you up at night.) look i'm saying everyone fucking sucks about mothpool jfc.

actually yeah there IS a large age gap with feathercrow and i'm still pissed because someone called it fucking. nope. i'm not even going to repeat it because that's how angry i was about it. but. deep breath, matthew. keep it together. anyway, crowpaw's age is completely incoherent, there's no logical way for him to be BOTH deadfoot's son AND still an apprentice. pick or choose. what we do know is that he was very, very nearly a warrior, which means (since the journey took a VERY long time), he was definitely an adult when he got w feathertail. is there a large age gap? yes. do i have a problem with it? no, because feathertail wasn't fucking manipulating a young apprentice jfc. ig you get a point for having a comparison that's actually almost relevant.

NO. NO SHE WAS NOT. i proved this for mothpool age gap purposes but she's CONFIRMED to be a NEW APPRENTICE when she leaves. you. fuck. once again, you are FUCKING LYING to make a point that i jusdfljdaslf;jk

anyway i'm going to go delete the comment now

[katsukisbimbo]

DDAENG

✯ pairing: hawks x reader

✯ genre: FLUFFYYDS!!

✯ summary: fan! hawks meeting his newly debuted idol crush y/n at a fansign!

✯wordcount: 2.1k+

✯warning: just swearing and hawks being thirsty <3

✯ note: this literallt came to me because i was trying to turn @hoodtoshi into a bts stan (lowkey succeeded) and i was jus like yea, thirsty hawks

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥

- you were nervous

- this was your first fan meet after all,, but you were still nervous

- you were only 19 and had already debuted!!

- that didn’t happen to just anyone!!

- you worked super hard to get to where you are today!! everyone knew that!!

- you sighed as your make-up artist continued to paint your lips a dark red colour

- you honestly didn’t look like yourself, but this was to keep up the whole idol image i guess

- “jinhee, how many people are outside? i’m sure only two people came to see me..” you pouted, resulting in your make-up artist to smack your cheek lightly

- “dOn’t say that you dummy! i’m sure a lot of people came to see you!” she scolded, wiping off the excess makeup on a towel

- “now get out, you’re done”

- “i don’t wanna”

- she raised a newspaper and flexed, ready to beat the fuck out of you if she heard another whisper of self-deprecation from you

- “fine! i’m going!” you grumbled, pouting at oncoming soreness of your feet from your heels

- why did idols have to wear heels anyway?

- okay no, you knew why, but sTill!! they sucked!

- you smiled as you saw the buffet table

- one little snack wouldn’t hurt

- >:)

- “keigo stop fuckign puSHING”

- “im so EXCITED!! i’m meeting THE y/n you SLUTBAG!!” keigo yelled as he shook his companion

- dabi sometimes questioned why he was still friends with keigo

- “i SEE that you asshole”

- keigo took this opportunity to punch dabi in the arm, causing dabi to retaliate, causing kEigo to retaliate, causing dAb-

- okay so

- “i’ve been in love with her ever since she debuted!! and she debuted ALONE!! a whole solo artist!! the talent!! the beauty!! i’m in love!!”

- dabi raised a brow at his friend

- “didn’t you tweet about wanting to ‘put a baby inside of her’?”

- keigo felt his cheeks heat up at the possibility of you seeing his indecent tweets about you

- what if you had seen? what if you think he’s a creep? what if you already hated him??

- keigo felt his anxiety creep onto his shoulders as he continued to overthink, not realizing that they were already next to go in

- ruh roh raggy

- keigo didn’t know anything BUT anxiety

- rip keigo we’ll miss you big daddy :,(

- “please come in, please don’t shout”

- whO was shouting?? nobody was shouting

- keigo wasn’t gonna shout

- as keigo was about to shout, he felt himself be silenced by his partner

- all keigo could feel was betrayal

- “calm down you hot dog, you’re going to TALK to her in person jfc. you can tell her how much you want to father her children then”

- it was almost time and you were STILL at the food table

- you saw a small intern approach you with an uneasy look on her face

- she was for sure about to reprimand you

- “m-ms. y/n,, we have to go now!” she stuttered

- she was sO! cute you just couldn’t say no

- so you decided to just sneak a few bags of chips under your skirt before smiling and quickly following her

- you made your way to the stage, peeking behind the curtains

- you saw a huge crowd of people, mostly males, but one man who sat near the front caught your eye

- he had bright yellow eyes with matching blond hair, even wearing some eyeliner

- the unknown male looked absolutely delectable

- he made you bark a little tbh

- you took a deep breath before you were pushed by your manager on the stage, cheers suddenly reaching your ears as your fans confessed their love for you

- quit shamelessly might you add

- you blushed as you watched the cute blond-haired man cup his hands around his mouth and yell—

- “I LOVE YOU Y/N! IM YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN!” he yelled, gaining the attention of everyone in the room

- soon everyone started to yell that they were your biggest fan and that the blond man could never even compare

- but the man had nothing but a satisfied smirk plastered on his handsome face

- did he enjoy starting riots?

- you sat on the chair, placing your hands on top of the table

- this was a small table ngl

- luckily there was a sheet on the table, hiding your nervously bouncing legs

- just imagine watching a fancam of you bouncing your leg

- people would still thirst for that

- anyway

- “thank you guys for coming! i’m so excited to meet you all!” you started, smiling at the large number of people

- “you guys can ask me questions or some things? i don’t know?” you laughed, feeling slightly awkward

- you didn’t know how to be a person

- “can you do a dance for us!!” a young boy, about the age of 7 yelled, jumping up and down in front of his seat

- “what dance?” you queried, raising your brow in curiosity

- “move by taemin!!” he cheered, immediately dancing

- you laughed at his adorable actions

- you were totally gonna dance for him!

- you got up as the music started to play in the background, moving to the side of the table and sensually moving to the beat while the audience watched intently

- you carefully moved your hips, hitting all the right beats

- this wasn’t any different than dancing in front of the camera people, plus you had to get used to an audience

- it also wasn’t any different from how you had to dance to kpop songs from when you were younger for your family!!

- (no, literally. the amount of times i had to dance to 2NE1’s i am the best, girls generation’s gee, and wonder girls’ nobody. the dances are engraved in my head. 6 year old giri had to dance or else)

- as the song faded out, you held your pose before bowing, smiling at the little boy who continued to hype you up

- “holy fuck.. dabi that was hot” hawks whispered, tightening his grip around his friends sleeve

- “jeez kei, ease up a bit” dabi complained, prying his friends hand off of him

- “oh my god she’s such a great dancer, do you think she’ll like me if i learn how to dance too?” he questioned, grabbing his friend by the front of his shirt, pissing dabi off once more

- “no. not if you don’t stop being a fuckinf weirdo”

- hawks pouted

- dabi grinned

- how cruel

- “does anyone else have a request?”

- “WAP!!” a number of people yelled, resulting in your face heating up

- how would they suggest such a lewd dance!

- especially when there were children here!

- “haha! that doesn’t seem very appropriate!” you laughed it off, trying your best to mask your uncomfortableness

- hopefully this would end soon

- “no! can you dance to gashina please!” a girl yelled, catching your attention

- hm, gashina was actually a very good suggestion

- you could do this! you could be as great as sunmi!

- okay maybe no. sunmi was a god <3

- you did the routine, catching the eyes and the hearts of the audience

- “fuck i think i’m in love dabi” hawks whined, clutching his chest

- he had a lovesick expression plastered on his face

- he was totally whipped for you, no doubt about it

- before you knew it, it was time for the fans to have a minute to speak to you and for them to get their albums signed!

- you had recently debuted with your album, dawn in tokyo

- you had taken inspiration from the time where you had left your hotel at dawn and walked around the streets of tokyo, sitting near a bridge and writing lyrics for some of the songs in the album

- hence the name of the album

- most of your album was written in japan

- hawks felt himself get more excited as he came closer to you, holding tightly to the fabric of his friends jacket, which wouldn’t surely gotten him slapped if you weren’t so near

- before he knew it, he was already next in line, dabi already sitting in front of your figure while holding your soft, delicate looking hand in his large ugly ones

- this made hawks’ chest bubble with jealousy

- >:(

- sure, you had a large fan base, but it still hurt to see people touch you the way he wanted to

- it was now his turn, he walked up the stairs with his wobbly knees, wanting to just sit and be near you

- he knew that you would be able to calm his nerves, or make him spontaneously combust

- “hey! i’m y/n! nice to meet you!” you smiled, out-stretching your hand to him, offering to place your hand in his own

- he swiftly, but gently grasped your hand, before placing it on his cheek, letting you hold the soft chub of his cheek

- no fan had been this brave to do this. it was quite surprising to be honest

- he wasn’t breaking any rules so you decided to fuck it and go with it

- you placed both your hands on his cheeks, slightly squishing them together, causing him to adorably pout

- “dash not nishe” he mumbled, brows furrowing

- you laughed before letting go of his face, bringing your hands back to your side of the table

- “you’re so cute! can i sign your album for you?” you smiled, tilting your head to the side

- hawks just..dieded

- mans said peace out

- your beauty was incomprehensible

- phew, he had to get his shit together! he was trying to impress u! he wanted to be the mc in a wattpad story

- we all wanna be y/n

- anywayss

- “sure dove! u can make it out to keigo, u can put your number in it too ;)” he winked

- KDNDHSK

- DID HE—

- DID HE JUST ASK FOR YOUR NUMBER

- LIKE—

- nobody:

- y/n: i’m not gon do it girl.. i’m just thinking about it

- “ah! sorry cutie! i’m not allowed to share my number :333”

- you tried to laugh as you died inside

- he smiled, before placing a kiss on your fingertips

- “don’t worry dove,i respect that” he winked

- BARK BARK

- “i have some gifts for you!” he announced, placing the huge paper bag on top of the table

- he first pulled out your favourite snack before handing it to you

- how did he get these??

- omg

- then, he brought out a bottle of perfume, and a new song writing notebook!

- this was great!!

- “oh my gosh! keigo! you’re too sweet” you cooed,

- this was a lot

- “i also have something else.. would you wear this flower crown for me and do some fan-service?” he queried

- of course you would!

- you nodded before placing the flower crown on top of your head

- “what do you want me to say?”

- “say.. i’ll be a good dove for hawks. is that okay?” he smirked, tracing small circles into the palm of your hands

- w-wHAT

- was this legal

- your managers were literally ignoring you—

- “o-oh! sure! uhm-“

- god you were going to regret this

- “i-i’ll be a good dove for hawks!” you whimpered, showing off your practiced aegyo

- “ahhh! my heart!” he gasped, dramatically clutching his chest

- “excuse me, we need the next fan to come up” you manager tapped the both of your arms

- you nodded before smiling at hawks and waving goodbye

- you were going to miss him :((

- ig it just wasn’t meant to be

- the night you had gotten home, you decided to go through your gifts

- you were particularly interested in the gift you had gotten from the blond man

- it was really sweet of him to get you a notebook

- the moment you had opened it, you had noticed that something was written on the first page

- ‘xxx-xxx-xxxx call me pretty girl <3’

- he was a bold onealright

- you were contemplating on actually calling him

- he could leak your number!

- well, you could just wait for him to speak

- fuck it

- you dialed the number on your phone and waited as it rang

- “hello?”

- “i-is this keigo?”

- “hey dove, i’m glad you called”

- y/n: i did it :33

[sa-tou]

Chapter 139 + ending opinion

Okay..where do I begin, I already wrote something yesterday but now having read the English typeset I have come to this conclusion regarding the ending of SNK. (It’s a long post, may have some typo’s, which I will try to fix while editing the post)

Disclaimer: Isayama has my respect, even if I may not agree on all points I want to thank him for years of hard work and bringing us a beautiful story, that being said his story is not immune to criticism and so I will write this with my fullest and honest opinion. (Do not send Isayama or any of the voice actors and anime production staff any hate, if you didn’t like the ending that’s fine! But do not harass anyone else because of it)

Here goes:

Chapter 139, what can I say, even after reading it in English I cannot seem to like it.

Why? First of all, Ymir’s love…oh god I dreaded writing this but, her love it’s not comparable to Mikasa’s, that’s why I am unable to link the two, but at the same time I don’t see them as very different characters either. Let me elaborate, Ymir was a slave who had her whole family killed by king Fritz, had her tongue cut out and was impregnated at a very young age because she has the power of the titans, Ymir falling in love with him is nothing short of Stockholm Sydrome. Sure Mikasa being able to kill Eren and end it, was something Ymir couldn’t do but WHY and WHEN was Ymir ever in love with King Fritz…back to Mikasa, she let go of Eren, but in the end she really didn’t (Eren wishing she’d never move on came true). Yes you can mourn your loved ones for how long you want but, why did Isayama have to put her in a position where she is always tied to Eren, she never had her own character growth, because when we thought she finally let go of Eren, she returns with the scarf and ends up crying at his grave for the last 3 years (kind sounds like how Ymir started off wandering alone in Paths no?) regardless the EreMika built up came out of nowhere and it was to sudden for me to actually believe any of it. Opinions may differ but, it’s lackluster and well, to me SNK was never about romance, so this whole romance subplot was meaningless and shat on every character who died in this manga.

What also irked me is, Reiner’s character. SUCH A GREAT character, so much build up, so much amazing storytelling and he ends up not dying, nor sacrificing himself, no instead he ends up sniffing Historia’s letter… I still like Reiner but, this development went straight down the trash bin.

Also Historia having a baby, but why? We’ll never know. She supported Eren’s rumbling plan, but why? We’ll never know. Paradis turned into a dictatorship with fascist leaders, but why? Fuck it I don’t give a fuck.

But what I do wonder is, is Armin this naive? Does he think nations will just sign a peace treaty? No way, geopolitical relationships don’t work like that, look at the real world, we are constant war because people can’t set aside difference, now people want to tell me that after Eren stomped on 80% of the world’s population, they want to just be at peace? I don’t think so, especially now that Eldians no longer have titan powers, have zero advanced technology in weapons..Makes no sense.

The worm…wtf was it, why was it there, who stopped it and where did it go? It had a mind of it’s own and even after Zeke and Eren dying it still kept going so my question is, what was the purpose of introducing this shit and then not to further elaborate on it? Why did everyone have to turn into titans for them to turn back into humans in no time? Why not just take the sad route and have every shifter die and have Ymir reborn as a free girl, because I thought Ymir was shackled to paths because she couldn’t be a free human, that’s why the rebirth theory sounded so plausible, but now all Ymir is, is a Stockholm syndrome patient who was waiting to…..what the hell even happened to Ymir? Where’d she go, why did she leave, what was her fucking purpose in the end. You want to tell me that she put so many people and teenagers under stress because King Fritz wanted more women than just Ymir? Jfc.

Now to Eren, so we know Eren was always a crybaby and never fully mature to do what he did, but what the fuck was this chapter? Sure he loves his friends and wants them to be save but, how did you go from “I know what I need to do and this is why I must start the rumbling” to, “I don’t man, just felt like it, I love Mikasa and you all so I don’t want to die but I don’t know Ymir wanted this and I don’t know what Ymir wants”, like did Yams stop remembering his own story here?

Regardless, Eren dying is a good thing, he could not and should not be redeemed for mass genocide, I think we can all agree on this. But my whole issue is, why put the warriors, especially Reiner, through so much shit, when you started the whole massacre on your own. One chapter was all it took to butcher Eren’s persona, then again he was never my favorite so I couldn’t care less about him.

Another point, he says he will give everyone their memories back once he dies, they will learn about his plan. Sure, but why do Mikasa and Levi experience this? Is this the cause of their headaches? I don’t get it, wasn’t the whole plot that Ackermanns under no circumstance could be mind manipulated…so how the fuck did Eren pull this off? It just took that subplot and flushed it down the toilet.

ZEKE, the only man with an actual plan and he died for no reason, just like Porco, Marcel, Ymir, Marco, Erwin, Hanji, Shadis, Colt, Magath and every other character that died for no reason.

The ending to me feels like a bad EreMikaMin fanfic, it just left so many plot holes untouched and now we are left wondering wtf all the other 137 chapters were for.

To end this post, up until chapter 132 I really really really liked the story, after that I feel like Isayama just wanted to finish the story and just did what the shippers wanted and finished the story in a wholesome way without really tying up any loose ends. It’s a shame but, it is what it is.

[dwellordream]

“…There is a real belief on behalf of a not insignificant subset of society that the medieval Church was a shadowy organisation dedicated solely to suppressing knowledge and scientific advancement. This is not true.

The Church was in all actuality the medieval period’s largest benefactor of scholars of all stripes. Initially, in the early medieval period much learning was focused in monastaries in particular. Because monks took a vow to eschew idleness, they were always looking for new ways to work for the greater glory of God, or whatever. Sometimes this took the form of doing manual labour to feed themselves, but as monasteries such as Cluny rose to prominence they did more and more work in libraries as well.

Monks copied and embellished manuscripts and kept impressive libraries. Sometimes this work took place inside what we call “scriptoria” where more than one scribe is working at a time. They saw themselves as charged with transmitting knowledge. A lot of that knowledge was, of course, pagan, because they were extremely into classical thinkers. They were also reading this work of course, and writing their own commentaries on it. Many of them took the medical texts and used them to set up hospitals within their monasteries, as we have talked about before.

Lest you think this is all one big sausage fest, women were also very much about that book life within nunneries. They also had their own scriptoria and were busy scribbling away, reading, writing, and thinking. If you wanted a life where you strove for new scholarly heights, odds were that in the early medieval period you did that inside a monastery on nunnery.

As the medieval period moved on, scholarship eventually moved out of the cloister and into cities when the medieval university was established. The first degree awarding institution to call itself a university was the University of Bologna established around 1088, though teaching had been going on there previously and students had been going to Bologna from at least the late tenth century. Second was the University of Paris, which was established in 1150. Again teaching had been happening there from much earlier, and at least 1045.

Medieval universities weren’t like universities now, in that they didn’t have established campuses or anything like that. They were, more or less, a loose affiliation of scholars who would provide lessons to interested students. The University of Paris, for example, described itself as “a guild of teachers and scholars” (universitas magistrorum et scholarium).

In Paris there were four faculties: Arts, Medicine, Law, and Theology. Everyone had to attend the Arts school first where they would be asked to learn the trivium, which was comprised of rhetoric, logic, and grammar. Basically that meant all undergrads spent their time learning to argue, which is how the whole Abelard thing comes about. Then if they wanted more they could go do medicine, law, or theology. Theology was considered the really crazy good stuff, as medieval theologians were sorta held up in the way we worship astrophysicists like Neil de Grasse Tyson (ugh) or Stephen Hawking now. But if you wanna be a dick and super modern about it and think that nothing is more important than science, you will note that medicine is there and actively pursued.

So what, what does all of this have to do with the Church not being suppressive? Well literally everyone, both scholars and students in a medieval university was a member of the clergy. That’s right. Are you a Christian and you wanna learn about medicine? Well you need to take holy orders first. So every single scientific advancement that came out of a medieval university (and there were plenty) was made by a man of the cloth.

The quick among you might have spotted that the thing about unis is that they were just for dudes though, and that is lamentably true. Women weren’t able to take the same orders as men, which means they were excluded from university training. Plenty of them got tutored if they were rich. (See poor Heloise who just had Abelard, like, do himself at her.) Otherwise there was plenty of sweet stuff going on in nunneries still and always, as the visionary natural biologist Hildegard of Bingen can attest. Monasteries were also still producing good stuff as Thomas Aquinas would be happy to let you know from the comfort of his Dominican order.

Given that all of this is the case, it’s hard to square that circle of “the Church is intentionally suppressing knowledge!” with the fact that everyone actively working on acquiring and furthering knowledge was a member of it and all. The Church was a welcoming home to scholars because it was a place where you got the time needed to contemplate subjects for a long time. If you have your corporeal needs taken care of, then you can go on to think about stuff. The Church offered that.

Having said all of this, there were, of course, plenty of Jewish and Muslim scholars at work in medieval Europe as well. The thriving Jewish communities of the medieval period had their own complex theological discussions about the Talmud, and produced their own truly delightful sexual and scientific theory that I will never tire of reading.

I’ve also talked at length about how Islamic medical advances were very much taken on board by medieval Christians in Europe. The fact that the Christians in holy orders beavering away at the medical faculties of universities across Europe were very much looking to a Muslim guy called Ibn Sinna for medical knowledge makes it hard to see the Church as an oppressive hater of all things non-Catholic. I’m just saying.

What else is at play here? Meh, society writ large. A lot of us in the English as a first language speaking world, and in northern Europe more generally have been raised in a Protestant context even if we ourselves are not Protestant. The thing about that is Protestants, famously, is that they are not huge fans of the Church. Big news, I know. In the Early Modern period this could get kinda wild, with things like the Great Fire of London being blamed on a nefarious “Papish plot”, for example, becoming a nice early example of a conspiracy theory. (That conspiracy theory was still written in Latin at the based of The Monument built to commemorate the fire until 1830 when the Catholics were officially emancipated in Britain. LOL.)

When the whole Enlightenment thing went down, generalised distrust of Catholics was then later compounded by the fact that “serious” thinkers aka Voltaire’s ridiculously basic self began to categorise the accumulation of knowledge specifically in opposition to religious thought. This is the old “Age of Reason” which we currently allegedly reside in, versus the “Age of Faith” idea. The Church as an overarching institution from the age of faith was therefore thought of as necessarily regressive, and it became assumed that it has always been actively attempting to thwart advantage for vaguely sinister reasons that are never fully articulated.

…Now, plenty of people were killed for witchcraft because they were doing medicine. The witch trials were a very real thing, and you know when and where they happened? In the modern period, and usually with a greater regularity in Protestant places. Witchcraft trials peak in general from about 1560-1630 which is the modern period. The most famous trials with the biggest kill count took place in Trier, Fulda, Basque, Wurtzburg, Bamberg, North Berwick, Torsåker and Salem. You know what was going on in most of the places? The Reformation. Witch trials sort of reflected various confessions of Christianity’s ability to effectively protect their flocks from evil. Did Catholics kill “witches” oh you bet your sweet ass they did. So did Protestants, and it was all fucking ugly.

What is important to note is that in countries where Catholicism was static witch trials were largely unheard of. Ireland, the Iberian Peninsula, and Italy, for example, just didn’t go in for them even though they were theoretically in the clutches of a nefarious Church bent on destroying all medical knowledge or something.

Now, none of this is to excuse the multifarious sins of the institutional Church over the years. In many ways my entire career as a medieval historian is a product of the fact that I was frustrated with the Church after 16 years of Catholic school. If you had to go to a High School named after the prosecutor in the Galileo trial, you might also end up devoting yourself to picking intricate theological fights with the Church, OK? (Yes, this is my origin story.)

And that brings us to the crux of the matter: if you make up a bunch of stuff that the Church did not do it makes it harder to critique them of the manifold things they actually did do and are doing right fucking now. We need to be critiquing the Magdalene Laundries; the international cover up of pedophile priests; signing an actual concordant with Nazi Germany; the regressive attitudes towards abortion and contraception that happen still, now, and endanger the lives of countless women. All of this is real, and calls for the strongest possible condemnation.”

- Eleanor Janega, “JFC, calm down about the medieval Church.”

[firelxdykatara]

not gonna lie I would love to hear more about the drama and infighting that went on in The Vampire Diaries fandom if you have the time (and also want to use that time to give your experience with the fandom, which from the snippets you've told sounds Not Fun so I get it if you don't want to lol)

oh god, there was like, SO MUCH, i just

i really feel like tvd is one of those fandoms that is so hard to describe without a lot of ‘you’d have to have been there’, but it really felt like this huge and all-consuming beast for about five years until the show finally imploded and the fandom basically turned on it en masse. (you ever see that post going around that’s like ‘if you ever want to know what true regret feels like, ask someone who once called tvd their favorite show’? still a mood, all these years later. basically the entire fandom thought the show should have just bowed out with whatever shreds of dignity it had left at the end of season 6, and became more of a hatedom than a fandom for the last two seasons. when you have an entire fandom cheering news of your show’s cancellation, i think that’s a sign you done fucked up, julie.)

first and most infamous, of course, are the ship wars. which are pretty much inevitable in any teen-centered drama, and i really think the CW fucking thrives on them, but it was particularly egregious in TVD’s case because not only was the base premise of the show a love triangle, but the two main romantic leads were brothers that the show constantly pit against one another--in pursuit of elena’s affections, but also because it kept up this insistence on the ‘good brother/bad brother’ dichotomy which stopped making sense after about season 2 (by which time we have found out that the good brother was never as good as he appeared, and the bad brother has been growing and isn’t nearly as bad as he pretends to be)--and the question of which brother ‘deserved’ elena (and no, what elena wanted very rarely factored into these discussions, especially in the team stefan camp because they turned on her when what she wanted was no longer The Good Brother, but i’ll get to that in a bit) was hotly contested.

i’m not kidding when i say the shipping wars were vicious. i started watching tvd shortly after it began to air, which was late 2009, and kept up with it fairly sporadically over the years. i didn’t come onto tumblr until 2011/2012, and by then, the fandom was already pretty much a garbagefire. there were anti ship and anti character blogs, any time something bad happened for one ship the rival ship would invade the tags to gloat about it (seasons 3 and 4 were especially rough, and i’m not gonna pretend delena fans weren’t just as bad about tag invasion and shit, but as that was my side of the road i saw a lot more of the stelena shippers being assholes, which soured my opinion on the ship a long time before i started rewatching and realized the red flags were there from the start), confessions blogs were popular also toxic as fuck (so much fighting happened in the notes of those posts, good gods), and this was right around when twitter’s popularity was on the rise and the line between Celebrity and Fan was thinning, so the fandom was absolutely atrocious to much of the tvd cast and crew.

(some of them deserved a lot of the later backlash, but in the early years a lot of it was ‘how dare you write the story in a way i dont like, you terrible fucking person’, and gods don’t get me started on the dobsley vs nian Thing)

i think what really encapsulates my feelings on the tvd fandom as a whole, though, is the way they (to this DAY) treated elena gilbert, which can be summed up in one meme that gained a lot of traction around season 3 if i remember right: that gif of pam from true blood, with the text altered to read “i’m so OVER elena and her precious doppelganger vagina!”

i swear at one time i had over half the active tvd fan accounts on tumblr blocked, because i got to a point where i would no longer tolerate elena hate, and she was (and still is, in what remains of the fandom; you’ll see a lot of ‘elena was one of the worst things about the show’ takes from ex-fans, too) one of the most widely despised characters in the entire fandom. because she -checks smudged writing on hand- was a traumatized teenage girl who -reads off a crumpled notecard- couldn’t always perfectly sort out her own feelings and -squints at the ceiling- sometimes made mistakes or bad decisions. (except a lot of the fandom also insisted that she was a mary sue who had no character traits or flaws or faults and it was like....make up your fucking minds???? is she a calculating conniving bitch whose somehow manipulating these centuries old vampires to tie them around her little finger or is she a boring flat character with no depth and no flaws??? jfc)

there was this massive double standard, too--like, stefan and damon could fuck whoever they wanted and that was fine, but elena was constantly raked over the coals for the crime of developing romantic feelings for the two men who had become constants in her life and whom she cared for deeply, and oh my GOD the slut shaming that happened when elena slept with damon was fucking wild. (and also happened in canon lmfao. like the show had one of elena’s best friends basically call her diseased on screen for falling in love with someone other than stefan. it was gross and ridiculous and the friend in question was also being a giant hypocrite at the time since she was happily flirting with someone who was directly responsible for the deaths of like four of elena’s loved ones and her own boyfriend’s mother but that’s beside the point) but like elena was called a slut and a bitch and a whore for ‘cheating’ on stefan (she hadn’t, and she had in fact broken up with him on screen the episode earlier) and ‘immediately’ jumping into bed with damon, even though none of them said fucking boo when stefan had one night stands or damon had fuckbuddies or whatever.

shit, caroline didn’t get any of this treatment when she started falling for tyler while dating matt! which isn’t to say i think she should have, just that i think it’s fucking ridiculous that elena was absolutely demonized by the fandom for daring to have feelings for two guys at once and eventually acting on them--despite the fact that the entire premise of the show was a love triangle. it’s not a love triangle if both sides don’t eventually get explored, and the crew had been pretty explicit about the fact that delena was going to happen at some point--but when it did, a huge chunk of the fandom absolutely threw a fit.

and a lot of these elena haters were alleged stelena stans, and i say alleged because they hated her so much for not wanting stefan’s dick anymore that it was clear they were really stefan stans and only wanted stelena to be endgame because they wanted stefan to ‘win’ at the end of the day, because ‘he’s the good brother’ so he deserved elena more.

it was all very gross and very misogynistic and very sex shaming (apparently delena was a ‘shallow’ and ‘superficial’ relationship because they had sex after two years of unrequited feelings slowly becoming requited and then pining for ages on both sides, and because they had a lot of on screen chemistry that the show capitalized on for years so of course they did a lot of making out and shit but it’s not like stelena didn’t have its fair share of making out and sex scenes, stefan was just too much of a coward to let elena top i’d apologize for that joke but i’m really not sorry because it’s true), and when i say it was egged on by the crew, that’s because they refused to let the love triangle die back in season 4 when it should have.

they insisted on stringing stelena fans along, dropping little bread crumbs to keep them invested, like dreams of a future where they were married and revealing that stefan was also a doppelganger and he and elena were descended from a pair of star-crossed lovers (a plot that ultimately went nowhere, to no one’s great surprise), and then fucking like. julie plec turned around and threw nina under the bus after she chose not to extend her contract and pretended that stelena might have happened again if she hadn’t left the show, which....i mean frankly i wouldn’t put it past her, but it would have been shitty writing. then again, she thought having a vampire pregnancy where a uterus was magically transplanted from a witch into a vampire that could somehow......carry the babies to term.... made sense and was a good way to accomodate candice’s RL pregnancy rather than like literally ANYTHING else, soooooo. but anyway julie saying that around like, end of s6 sparked off a new wave of nina hate and elena hate and ship wars bc they SEers took it as ‘confirmation’ that stelena was REALLY meant to be endgame and it was all just a hot fucking mess

another thing is that, while tvd was in its prime before the anti/purity culture shit started picking up any real steam, there was still this pervasive attitude throughout the fandom that if you liked Damon, you were A Bad Person. liking damon was apparently grounds for insults and harassment, and apparently he was The Worst Person on the Show even though literally nothing he does on screen is any worse than shit we know stefan has done (and frankly every other vampire too, but i mention stefan specifically because he was always held up--in the show but especially in the fandom--as the Good Brother while damon was the Bad One, and if you liked damon more then that had to mean your morals were dodgy and you clearly couldn’t appreciate what a heroic and saintly figure dear stefan was and....oops, i’m sorry, my salt keeps leaking -cough-).

meanwhile klaus quickly became a fandom darling despite not even really having much of a redemption arc (on tvd anyway, he just became more ‘affably evil’ as the show went on and more inclined to work with the main characters rather than try to kill them; i have no idea what went on over on his show, though), and like i can 100% appreciate liking villains and not caring that they do dodgy villainous shit, even just liking them bc they’re hot and wanting them to kiss a main character bc they have insanely good chemistry (yes i ship klaroline, no i won’t apologize for it, they could have been Really Great), it’s just really the double standard that gets me.

and all of this, incidentally, required ignoring some truly gross shit stefan was responsible for wrt his relationship with elena, that frankly it has always bothered me never really got addressed in the show. i get why elena herself would never be able to actually call him on it, but the fact is that he stalked her for months after he first saw her and thought she was katherine (meanwhile it only took damon .5 seconds to realize she was someone else entirely, but that’s another topic entirely), and then he deliberately inserted himself into her life because, in his words, ‘i have to know her’. he never gave a thought to how his presence in her life might affect her (or rather, he did, and tormented himself about it in his internal monologue, but never let this actually dissuade him from disrupting her life), and elena would wind up blaming herself for every tragedy that befell her friends and loved ones as a result of getting mixed up in vampire bullshit even though none of it was her fault--she literally blamed herself for existing but most of the fandom didn’t give a fuck about that lmfao--and stefan did shit like find out that she was adopted and then withhold this information from her until she got pissed about another secret he was keeping (her resemblence to katherine) and drop it on her to try and distract her from her very reasonable anger, and like... i should stop before this becomes a whole rant about how much i hate stefan fucking salvatore, but the point is, he did a lot of really sketchy shit he never answered for and elena never really took him to task for, and the fandom just kept eating up his insistence that he was the Good Brother and therefore he deserved to have elena, and if she didn’t want him anymore it was because she was a heinous bitch who didn’t deserve him.

uh.....i think i got off track there. and there’s probably a lot of shit i missed, like i think i was incandescent with rage for most of seasons 5 and 6 so i missed a lot of the interfandom shit cause i was too busy being increasingly pissed off at the show itself, but if nothing else this should give you an idea of how much of a goddamn cesspit the fandom was while the show as in its prime. there’s a reason both the show and the fandom have such a lousy reputation lmfao.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Blood in the Rivers: I

A/N: I don’t even know, fam. This was supposed to be just smut but then The Plot happened and now this is 13.4k words and nowhere near finished. Now, it is somehow righting the wrongs D&D (and GRRM, let’s be real) trolled us with. There will be obvious canon-divergence right off the bat. 

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Ellaria Sand x F!Reader (Tully) 

Rating: M for canon typical violence, canon typical sexism, things get hot and heavy (or at least I try to make them...? Whatever. you be the judge) and my overuse of italics

Word Count: 13.4k (jfc)

Summary: Y/N Tully always knew how to play the part of the perfect lady when someone was watching. It was a game she liked to play, knowing how to act in order to get what she wanted. But now, as the War of the Five Kings rages, Y/N knows she needs allies if she wants to keep her family safe and her head on her shoulders. But in this game, everything has a price.

Chapter One: Plots, Plots, Plots

Smuggling Sansa out of King’s Landing had consumed the youngest Tully. While she played the part of dutiful peon, renouncing her father, uncle, and cousin and their actions against the crown, she was plotting. Sansa was sweet and kind and everything Y/N knew she should be as a highborn lady. Watching Joffrey command Meryn Trent to beat and strip her cousin’s eldest daughter in front of a crowd had only driven her to near madness in her quest to protect Sansa. It only took a handful of weeks for the plan to be finalized. Murmurs of Stannis Baratheon’s impending attack were quickly sweeping through the Red Keep and all of King’s Landing. 

She set off toward the Keep’s rookery with two small missives neatly stacked together. An aged maester had been the same guardian of the ravens for decades. Blind in one eye and slow to walk, she knew her window was reasonable but still limited. He was also a loyal dog to the queen. Each of her movements would be whispered in Cersei’s ear by lunch.

She stepped into the rookery and resisted the urge to wrinkle her nose at the scent of shit and dirt and dust. It was just another reminder of how far away she was from Riverrun and its clean air, always scented with the mist and overgrown grasses.

 The Maester stood slowly from his cluttered desk and offered her a small smile. “Ah, Lady Tully. How may I help you?”

 She held up the slips of parchment to make it look like a single letter. “A missive for my Uncle Hoster.”

 “Ah,” the maester said, the sound catching in his throat. “Another plea for him to see reason?”

 “Of course.” She handed over the carefully written and brief letter while tucking the other into her palm.

The maester read it and nodded. “You are a service to your house, my lady.”

She pressed a pleased smile to her lips and dipped her head demurely, as she had half a dozen times before. Edmure and Hoster were aware that she would be pressed to write stupid letters like the one in the maester’s spindly fingers. The only truth written in those missives were that she loved them. “I thank you for that.” She then plucked it from his fingers with another smile and started to walk backward toward the cage.

 “May I send it for you, my lady? The ravens here tend to be fickle beasts if they do not know your face.” The maester smiled kindly and held out his hand for her letter again.

But she shook her head and continued backward. It was true, usually her letters were taken directly from her desk and sent off without having to go to the rookery herself—but this called for a change. She’d visited the rookery last week to see how it was divided between the realms and she could time how quick she needed to be in her task; it had been under the guise of being lost looking for the Grand Maester to “ask for guidance as to how to bring her errant father and uncle back under the guidance of the Crown.” It was all so easy to play the part of mindless crown loyalist. “The ravens of Riverrun have always adored me—I do not see why these would be any different. But I do thank you for the offer.”

She skittered through the door and quickly found the correct batch of ravens and fastened the small slip of parchment to the raven’s leg and set it loose before flittering over to the ravens meant for Riverrun and tying the other. She set that one loose a little slower as she heard the maester step into the large cage with his uneven gait. She made a bit of a show of watching the raven fly away in the window and turned and heaved a hearty sigh.

“They seem to like you.” He chuckled, another dry, rasping sound.

“Yes, I suppose.” Another exaggerated sigh. “I do hope Lord Tully listens to reason this time.” She then curtseyed and walked away. The maester looked relieved as she said goodbye to him and took her leave of the rookery.

But it was done.

And when the Red Keep was essentially barricaded against the coming attack, she knew her time had come. She slipped out of Maegor’s Holdfast without too much fanfare. Cersei was drunk and had requested more wine anyway. Y/N saw the opportunity for what it was and left the Holdfast under the guise of serving the Queen, just ahead of schedule.

Sounds of the battle echoed through the strangely empty halls as she hurriedly made her way toward her destination. Quiet footsteps soon followed her and she skirted around a corner and pulled out the small dagger she’d hidden in her sleeve. But it was poor Sansa who had followed her—much earlier than what they had agreed upon.

“I-I’m sorry!” Sansa whimpered as she stared at the sharp edge of her “cousin’s” blade.

“You are fine, my little one. I’m sorry I almost cut you.” She quickly hid the dagger away and took Sansa’s hand, leading her back toward her chambers. The older of the two was equal parts relieved and shocked to see the Hound waiting in Sansa’s rooms. “Sandor.” His name came like a rushed breath. “You are early.”

“I’m not doing-”

“Take Sansa to Dorne.”

Both of them gaped at the request.

“What?” It was Sansa who finally broke the tense silence of the room. “Dorne? B-but, I-”

She gathered the Sansa’s hands in her own and kissed her shaking fingers. “You will be safe. Sandor will see you there without harm. Everyone will think you’ve gone North and scavenge and pillage looking for you. No one will think to look for you in Dorne. The Martells have no love for the Lannisters even with the betrothal of Trystane and Myrcella. They will know of your story.” She knew it to be a shaky alliance to begin with, especially with Myrcella being betrothed to Trystane. But betrothals could be broken and their memories were long. And this was the best option for Sansa. The only.

“You won’t come with me?” Tears gathered in her eyes.

She shook her head. “I must let them think they’ve won. I still have a part to play in this game.” She then turned to the taciturn soldier. “What say you, Sandor? Will you deliver Sansa to Dorne? Keep her safe, unharmed, and untouched?”

His burnt face twisted in a grimace. “I should take her North. Like I said-”

“But you will not. South is safe. Keep her safe.” She bent and pulled something from her skirts—a small satchel of coin. She pushed it into his hands when he didn’t move to accept it.

“I don’t want your fuckin’ coin-”

“This is for food and shelter during your travels. Take it. Now.” She only let herself smile when he did. “You may not believe in knighthood, Sandor. But you are the only man I’ve met who even compares to a true knight.”

The burnt man frowned at her words but didn’t say anything. He took several steps back as Sansa flung her arms about Y/N’s shoulders in a fierce embrace.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, little one. Now, you must stay alive.” A handful more of quiet encouragements and goodbyes were spoken before she pulled a small sack from beneath Sansa’s bed and handed it to her. “A few dresses for the warmer weather. And I stole some lemon cakes from the kitchens.”

Sandor snorted.

Sansa nodded with tears in her eyes and let out a shaking breath as Y/N kissed her forehead. “Go, Sansa. Live.” She watched Sansa place a shaking hand in Sandor’s before they quietly disappeared into the night. 

Outside, the battle raged on. Y/N slipped out of Sansa’s chambers and walked toward the Holdfast once again. She hid away in a darkened passageway and once again drew her dagger. It didn’t take long for her to complete the final task of her plan for the night. She had grabbed a jug of wine from the kitchens and let it slip from her fingers with a crash before turning the blade on herself. Pain bloomed through her stomach and her dagger clattered to the ground, slipping from her now-slick, reddened grip. “Help me!” She screamed, forcing tears to her eyes. “Help me!” 

                                                            **

Life in King’s Landing hadn’t particularly changed since the Tyrells had arrived. Of course, people whispered about Sansa’s disappearance—her favorite rumor was that Sansa turned into a wolf and raced into the battle herself. And Y/N’s stab wound had earned her a strange sort of awe around the court. Stabbed for wine, the stupidity of it all. The official story was that a kitchen maid had tried to steal some jewels (or just food, depending on who was asked) and little Lady Tully had caught the maid in the act before she fled into the night. They stopped by the time her wound had healed. As she sat across from Olenna Tyrell in the gardens, Y/N suddenly wondered if she had finally met an adversary worthy of her time or another ally. Margaery, the beauty and new betrothed to the Brat King, Joffrey after the ‘victory’ of the Battle of the Blackwater, seemed amiable enough as she sat beside her grandmother but a beautiful face often hid an ugly heart. Cersei was proof of that enough.  

“You know, a cousin of mine was nearly scandalized by your father,” Olenna said as the tea was poured.

“Scandalized?” she parroted, feeling a smirk touch the corner of her lips. She knew exactly the story she was thinking of. “Surely not.” 

“Oh yes. Our father tried to marry her off to Brynden Tully and he said no. ‘No!’ like she was some underfed calf.” She laughed. “It was the most childish fit she’d ever thrown.” Olenna waved away the servants as soon as the plate of lemon cakes was placed upon the table, nearly tipping the bowl of berries. “She eventually married some Vyrwel boy. And your father,” Olenna’s dark eyes suddenly pinned her guest, “married your mother.”

“I’ve heard stories of them, even in The Reach,” Margaery said with a kind smile.

Something tight twisted in her stomach at that, as it always did when a beautiful woman fixed her with a gaze. “I’ve heard a song the Valemen sing. I was unaware that my parents’ union was such fodder for stories across The Realms.” She stirred a bit of honey into her tea, fighting a smile as she always did when she heard of her parents. Some claimed to know her parents as they truly were, but few did. Few knew their story as it actually happened.

“Well, when someone as lofty as a Tully marries a lowborn girl nearly half his age--from Pentos, no less--it is sure to cause quite a stir.” Olenna arched an eyebrow, daring her to refute it. “No matter how pretty.”

“Love is a precarious thing. I cannot fault my father for whom he loved.”

“Love! Pah! Love is for stories and songs.” 

“Grandmother, please. I am to be married soon—you said you loved grandfather and I know my lord father loves mother.” 

“They learned to appreciate each other, dear girl. There is a difference.” 

“I believe in love,” Margaery said, full of conviction but still smiling.

“And you, Lady Tully? Little Fish? Do you believe in love? You are past the age of majority. How you have not yet been married off is a mystery. You are highborn. Wealthy. Beautiful. Did your parents always plan for you to be a septa? A silent sister?” Olenna asked. 

A poorly hidden titter nearly sloshed the tea from her cup. “Truly, I do not know.” 

The older woman hummed. “I still find it strange that you were not at least introduced to someone after your first flowering.” She sipped her tea. “Have you spoken with your father?” 

“No, my lady. He has taken to King Robb’s service.” 

“Oh, yes, and to leave your unwed daughter in the Lion’s Den.” She huffed. “Lord Tully, too.”

“Grandmother,” Margaery softly chided. 

“It is true and you know it.”

“It is true,” she acknowledged. But she trusted them just as they trusted her.

“But your uncle—he must have had some sense of duty to you.”

Y/N nodded. “Hoster Tully’s duty to me was to see me educated and fed. He succeeded at both. Exceeded at everything else a doting uncle usually deems necessary.” He had allowed her to train with blades and horses when she had excelled past her Maester and Septa’s teachings. It had been hidden from Court at Riverrun. But she had been a natural in that regard, too. She loved to spar and run wild with her horse in the fields and lands around Riverrun. It felt like another life. Or a lifetime ago.

Olenna leaned forward with an odd gleam in her eye. “Oh yes. I’ve heard you were sent as part of the Riverlands delegation when that band of raiders was running amok. The rest of the company left after Eddard lost his head—but not you. You stayed.” 

“Leaving Sansa alone in the capital was not an option.” 

“Yes, yes. Sansa Stark. The disappeared.” 

Margaery shifted in her seat and took a bite of lemon cake, eyes warm but still calculating. But she continued to let her grandmother steer the conversation. “I have been told you were quite close to your cousin’s daughter. She confided in you, did she not? About King Joffrey.” 

She took a sip of her tea and regarded the pair. Oh, yes. A formidable match indeed. This was either a half-hearted attempt at tricking her into admitting treason or a true plea for fact.

“Only Sansa would be able to divulge all the small details, I assume. But you will have to do, won’t you? Who else would know better in this wretched city?” Olenna pinned her with another stare. “We’ve heard some troubling tales. Is there any truth to them? Has this boy mistreated Sansa?” 

She hummed and spied a man passing by, almost hidden by the bushes and greenery. “King Joffrey, His Grace is very fair and as brave as a lion.”

Olenna huffed as her granddaughter rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, all Lannisters are lions. And when a Tyrell farts, it smells like a rose.” 

Margaery finally spoke, leaning forward in her seat, a sea of pretty blue fabric washing across the stone pavers as she moved. “But how kind is he? How clever? Has he a good heart, a gentle hand? I’m to be his wife; I only want to know what that means.”

Keeping quiet at a time like this was a simple tactic. Needing information made people desperate. Or agitated.

“Are you frightened, child?” Olenna huffed. “No need for that. We’re only women here.”

“And the men in the bushes behind you?” 

“Loyal to me and only me.” 

“And who are you loyal to, Lady Olenna?” 

A small smile touched the woman’s lips. “You are a brazen one, aren’t you? Your father must be so proud.” 

And she could not stop her own smile. “He is. I’m sure.” 

“I am loyal to my family and my family alone. No harm will come to you, Little Fish.” 

That was enough for her, satisfied that the Tyrells were self-serving enough to keep her counsel. “Eddard Stark always told the truth.”

“Yes, he had that reputation,” Olenna said with a nod.

“And they named him traitor and took his head. Joffrey did that. He promised he would be merciful and he cut Eddard’s head off. And he said that was mercy. Then he took Sansa up on the walls and made her look at it.” Rage bubbled under her skin as she remembered how broken Sansa had been, bleeding lip and tearful eyes, as Sandor lead her back to her chambers after that terrible scene. Someone as kind and pure as Sansa never deserved it. On the other hand, Margaery did not either. But there was a steely resolve and cunning tenacity that made her believe the Tyrell girl could bend just about anyone to her will. “He’s a monster.” There, she had said it.

“That’s a pity,” Olenna said, her tone making it seem like she’d had believed all the rumors anyway. Margaery sighed, looking disappointed. 

“Will you stop the wedding?” She asked. 

Olenna shook her head. “Have no fear. The Lord Oaf of Highgarden is determined that Margaery shall be queen. Even so, we thank you for the truth.”

For a while, they simply spoke about the wedding details and she did find the pair’s wit quite enjoyable. They never minced words and appreciated how they instantly seemed to know that she could hold her own. 

“But if I never see another stitch of that red and gold, it will be too soon.” 

“It is as if you are marrying a Lannister instead of a Baratheon,” Y/N hummed, plucking a berry from the plate. “Would you prefer the black and gold?”

“She looks quite fetching in gold,” Olenna said with an easy smile, one of the few she noticed the Queen of Thorns only reserved for her granddaughter. “But what of you, Little Fish? Your colors are blue and red.” 

“I’ve never been fond of them. My father took the moniker of Blackfish and I have taken it as well. I much prefer black and red.”

“Black and red,” Margaery laughed lightly. “Like a little Targaryen.” 

“Well,” she said with a light laugh, “we both have scales.” 

Olenna tilted her head to the side, purveying the young woman in front of her for a moment. “Have you ever been to The Reach?” 

“No, my lady. I do hope to visit Oldtown one day.” She answered honestly, confused by the change of subject. 

Olenna clucked, smirk pulling at her lips. “Well, I have a proposition for you.” 

“Lady Tully.” The small group of women turned to see Tywin Lannister strolling into the gardens. “Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery,” he added, with a tip of his head. “May I speak with you, Lady Tully?” 

Y/N turned to Olenna, eyes pleading. Please do not make me leave with him.

“Now.” Apparently that wasn’t an option.

She sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and stood, pressing another smile to her lips. “Of course.” She turned back to Olenna. “Thank you, Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery, for the tea.” 

“Of course, dear. You are always welcome at my table.” The Queen of Thorns, for her all her prickly nature and stinging words, actually looked troubled for the younger woman. “Take Ella with you. No young woman should be unaccompanied.” Another woman, probably one of Olenna or Margaery’s retinue, appeared as her name was said and tipped her head toward Tywin and Y/N in turn.  

Y/N nodded at them and made her way to Tywin’s side who quickly made it clear that Ella was to stay several paces back. Ella did as she was told but arched an eyebrow as she made eye contact with her one-time charge. “How can I help you, Lord Tywin?” She let him lead, further into the gardens, the greenery growing higher and thicker with each step. She never wanted to be near the old lion. His reputation preceded him in every way and the fact that he felt the need to be alone with her only served to increase her trepidation. They had been introduced only two days prior, by a smirking Cersei, who had boasted of her father’s achievements at length before mentioning, however briefly, that Y/N was “much more amiable than her cousins.” A tentative compliment, to be sure. The old lion had kissed her hand and smirked at her, rolling her stomach, but she knew how to tip her chin demurely and curtseyed out of practiced politeness before she was dismissed.  

But now she was here, in the gardens, largely unaccompanied by the man responsible for the death of the dragons an age ago and the one who set in motion all of her family’s tragedies. 

“The Queen speaks highly of you.” 

“Her Grace is too kind. It is I who should speak highly of her. She has fed me and housed me when my family has taken the side of traitors.” The words were acid on her tongue. Lies upon lies upon lies. “I am forever in her debt.” Tywin smirked and she fought the urge to let her lip curl in a snarl. “But I’m sure you did not ask me to walk with you to speak of your daughter.” 

“You are correct. The Realm is still at war. Your family has held Riverrun for generations. While it is possible for the Crown to raise another family to Lord Paramount of the Trident, it always ends in more bloodshed. But you are smart—loyal.” 

The conversation was quickly spiraling into unfamiliar and dangerous territory. “I thank you, my lord. I know the Realm needs stability now more than ever.”

“Yes. Stability.” The word sounded strange on his tongue. “Exactly.” 

Frantic footsteps behind them drew their attention and she was thankful for it, whomever it was, and turned to see who had come. It was her handmaiden, a pretty girl named Daisy from the Stormlands who had once been Myrcella’s chambermaid before the princess was shipped off to Dorne.

“My lady!” She was out of breath and then blushed a violent shade of red as she noticed Tywin and quickly dropped into a curtsey. “Lord Hand, I beg your pardon.” 

“What is it, girl?”

Ella started to laugh at his displeasure but hid it behind a sneeze. 

“You have a raven, my lady. I know you prefer to read them promptly.”  

Relief washed over her like a wave. “You are a treasure, Daisy. I thank you.” She turned to Tywin and curtseyed. “I must take my leave, Lord Hand. I am hoping it is from my father or uncle. I do believe I might have reached their hearts and minds in regards to this traitorous alliance with my Northern-wed cousin.” 

“I will speak again with you soon, my lady.” He grasped her hand before she could leave and pressed another kiss to her knuckles. “I wish you luck with your troublesome family.” 

She pressed a smile to her lips and knew it appeased him with the smirk he gave her as she curtseyed again and then quickly walked away, Daisy struggling to keep pace. She made sure to touch Ella’s hand in thanks before she rejoined the Tyrell retinue, and then quickly made her way to her chambers. 

As the door to her chambers closed, Daisy quickly pulled the letter from her skirts with a small smile. It was still sealed with not a trace of one trying to decipher its inner secrets. She pulled a gold dragon from a small satchel tied about her waist and dropped it into Daisy’s palm, as she did every time the maid gave her a letter and guaranteed her secrecy. While the ravens from Y/N were many, those coming to her were few—a precious few. Daisy was tasked with retrieving them from the rookery before the maester could read them and then make a false report to one of Cersei’s many spies about its contents. The girl was trustworthy, worth her weight in gold—and she paid her thus. Daisy’s own vendetta against the Lannisters had started when the Lannister men stormed the streets of King’s Landing in an attack against Eddard Stark and his Northern bannermen. Jory Cassel, head of Eddard’s personal guard, had been killed. No one knew of Jory’s torrid affair with young Daisy, but Daisy had sworn retribution, something she knew she could use and quickly schooled the maid in how to play the part of dutiful, whispering servant. 

The pair would have their vengeance. But it was a long game and Y/N didn’t mind parting with the gold dragons Hoster had sent her with to keep an ally. “Who did you say this was from today?”

“Your cousin, Edmure, my lady. Saying that he wishes you well but cannot see your reasoning.”

“Perfect.” 

Daisy preened with the praise and helped herself to Y/N’s jug of wine as she usually did when Y/N read her letters. 

The seal popped open and left a smear of red across the parchment. It creaked under her grip, like it had been baked and then left to dry in a desert sun. 

Your bird has found her way to Sunspear. 

The letter took her a moment to understand—her bird? What could that possibly…Sansa.

Y/N pressed the letter to her chest with a relieved sigh. She’d made it—far faster than she anticipated. She quickly read the rest.

Your letter to my brother Doran was a most welcomed surprise. She is unused to the heat but becoming accustomed to it. She is a loved guest—but she understands she cannot fly in certain halls. We do have golden cats here at the palace. House Nymeros Martell will keep her safe until she is ready to fly home. 

The sigil stamped at the edge of the brief message was a sun pierced by a spear, standard of the Dornish ruling house, but a red viper was also wrapped around the tip of the weapon—mouth open and hissing.

“Oh little one,” she mused, finger brushing against the snake. “You have found yourself quite a champion.” Whispers of the Red Viper of Dorne had reached even her chambers in Riverrun. Bold, brash, and deadly, she was well aware of the Prince of Dorne. Oberyn. She always thought it a beautiful name. And if the rumors of his eight bastard daughters were true, he must have a face to match. And, if the rumors that he liked the company of both men and women were true, she’d found a kindred spirit.

“Good news, my lady?”

“Very good, Daisy.” She quickly touched the parchment to the flame of a nearby candle and watched it burn and smolder until only the corner was left and the tips of her fingers were near burnt. She scooped the ash into her palm and dumped it out of the window, watching the evidence of their subterfuge disappear in the wind.

                                                          **

The letters continued come at uneven intervals, keeping her informed at how Sansa was faring in Dorne. His missives, however brief, always left her a bit warm in the face. 

Your little bird speaks of you often. Of your sweet nature and devotion to your loved ones. I am honored that you have deemed my House worthy or your trust. We will not fail you.  

But I do wish to know you; to know your face as I know your heart.

And then another:

Your bird misses you. My brother has taken her under his tutelage and she is flourishing. I grower curiouser and curiouser about you with each passing day. 

Words like that were scrawled across each letter she received and she treasured each new one as much as the last and always hated when she had to burn them to ash. They had become a small bright spot to her strange life in the Red Keep. A secret all her own that made her smile without care. 

But, she knew she was being watched when she was not in the haven of her rooms. The Mountain had returned from “the Westerlands” and had resumed his place in King’s Landing—but she knew he had been the leader of the band of raiders in the Riverlands all those months ago. He had been the reason she was here in the Red Keep. 

And he surely made his presence known. 

Ser Gregor seemed keen to keep her within his sights. The Mountain leered at her and was unrepentant when he would make wildly inappropriate comments in highborn company about the shape of her hips or the heaviness of her breasts. Y/N was sure the only reason he had not approached her was because someone with enough power had expressly forbidden him from touching her.  

But he was waiting—she knew. She could feel his eyes on her wherever she moved.

It unnerved her to no end. The small blades she had sewn into her dresses and hidden in her chambers gave her a small bit of comfort but she continued to play the part of a woman unaware of the eyes she caught and persisted to find a small amount of joy in her quiet chats with Daisy and her infrequent letters from Dorne or her quiet prayers to the Seven for the safety of her family.

But that was irrevocably torn asunder with new from The Twins.

The Red Wedding, they called it. Whispered the crude name for it in the halls as she passed. She held her head high and kept her tears silent in the darkness of night, soaking her pillow until she exhausted herself. Her cousin Catelyn, her son—her beautiful Robb who had made her laugh when she’d been fostered at Winterfell for two years—gone. Edmure was imprisoned and her father in the wind. Her family…gone in a single night. 

It took the Queen and her father three days to summon the last “loyal” Tully to the throne room. Joffrey was there too, perched on the Iron Throne with a sneer. She curtseyed and smiled at them as if she hadn’t felt like a dagger had wedged its way between her ribs and twisted. 

“The King in the North is dead,” Joffrey jeered. “Yes, I’ve heard, Your Grace. A great victory.” Her voice was steady. 

That was not the emotion Joffrey wanted nor expected because he continued, “your traitor family—wiped out! Dragged to-”

“That is enough, Joffrey,” Tywin said with an even tone as he eyed her, quickly shutting up his grandson.

“What my family did was treasonous and stupid. Rebelling against the Crown was an act of war. Their deaths are only another act of war. Men die, Your Grace. It is better that it happened sooner rather than later for the betterment of the Realm.” 

Joffrey seemed placated and looked so much like his mother as he held his nose in the air. “I see you are a reasonable woman. It is a shame your family could not follow your example.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” She could feel the bile turn in her stomach and then rising like a terrible wave up her throat. “Is there anything you require of me?”

“The Freys have been raised up to Lords of Riverrun.” 

And now something cold gripped her stomach. But what of what Tywin had said just a few suns ago? “Oh.” It was all she could say.

“But,” Tywin continued, “it is only temporary. Until you find a suitable husband.” 

“That is very kind, Lord Tywin.” It was not kind. It was a threat. They meant to shackle her to someone they knew was loyal, too. Shaping the Riverlands into another realm under their thumb. And if they thought she was loyal, they would probably assume she would leap at any match they sought to bring. 

Cersei, with almost a sincere smile, stepped down a few steps toward her. “We will make sure the match is agreeable to you, Lady Tully. I would not see you married to a brute.” 

That was when her chin wobbled, a crack in her mask. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

A brute. A brute. A brute.

All her life, marriage had seemed like some far off arrangement. Her father had never pressed her to marry and Uncle Hoster had avoided it entirely. Being confronted with its inevitability had shaken something in her marrow.

                                                        **

Daisy had told her to spend some time in the market to “buy something overpriced and shiny” for some semblance of happiness.

“I do it all the time when my thoughts fall to my Jory.” Daisy gave her a soft, sad smile but quickly waved it away. “It is why I have so many beautiful things!” 

That is how she found herself surrounded by the thrum of King’s Landing, weaving between people as she looked at various stalls of goods and wares and foods. Daisy had left her side a few moments ago to barter with some woman over a filigreed hair pin. She was in need of a new inks and parchment and possibly a pair of earrings to wear to the wedding ceremony in just a few days. Finding the ink and parchment was easy—and the ink was a pretty blue, almost the Tully shade and she had swiftly purchased three wells of it. Daisy flittered by for a moment to check on her before disappearing into the crowds again. 

As she looked over the various “shiny things” Daisy insisted she look at, Y/N collided with someone. The scent of citrus and foreign, floral perfume engulfed her in a cloud as she was caught at the wrists and saved from falling to the cobblestone street. 

“Forgive me, my lady,” she quickly said as she righted herself, not even looking at the woman she had nearly toppled. “I must take care to look where I am going.” 

A delightful laugh pulled her attention and her tongue quickly glued itself to the roof of her mouth. The woman in front of her was stunning. Dark, luscious hair tied in a loose braid, away from her sharp, unfairly beautiful features, and draped in shades of orange and yellow which only highlighted the tan tone of her skin. She was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Cousin Edmure, if he was at her side, would have surely nudged her by now, used to how she would become tongue-tied around women. The Tullys had been aware of her partiality to women—Edmure had once caught her being kissed by one of their sworn houses’ ladies in the dim light of Riverrun’s halls and had simply sighed. She had always been drawn to both men and women. It was just that it seemed like beautiful women greatly outnumbered the men she could tolerate.

And now she was basically awestruck by this woman. 

“I am no lady,” the woman said. “And I do believe it was I who stumbled into you.” 

The man behind the stall they were standing in front of loudly cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows, silently telling them to buy something or move.

The woman laughed again and grabbed Y/N’s hand and led her down the nearest alleyway and leaned against the cool stone of the building as she released her hold. A basket of flowers was tucked under her arm and golden, swirling earrings dripped from her ears. “You are a quiet one, aren’t you?”

“N-no, I just…” 

“Have never seen a Dornishman before?” The woman supplied, head tilted to the side with a soft smile.

“No, I mean. I have, but you are very—what did you mean, ‘I am no lady’?” She quickly stopped her poor stumbling and bit at her bottom lip, trying to will the embarrassment away.

“I am a bastard. Born of passion.” 

“Oh.” She paused. And then held out her hand. “I’m Y/N Tully.” Being a bastard or low-born mattered very little to Y/N. Her mother’s own low-born, foreign standing had been held over her head for as long as she had remembered. It wasn’t fair. Her parents loved each other, loved her. It was a mindset that made her differ from most of her peer group but she did not mind. (Even when her cousin Catelyn had told her that Jon Snow, Eddard’s bastard, was not to be associated with. She had found him great company and loved his soft, low voice when they would speak in the cover of moonlight at Winterfell. It all seemed like ages ago, now.) 

The woman paused, eyebrow cocked, before she smiled and took her hand, soft, long fingers curling around her own and Y/N shivered. “Ellaria Sand.”

“What brings you to King’s Landing?” She asked, finding her footing with speaking with the woman—finally. “Surely it is not the markets. I have heard the bazaars of the Shadow City are one of the wonders of the Seven Kingdoms.” She lowered her voice. “And I assume Dorne smells much better.”

Ellaria laughed. “It does. That is why I came to the markets.” She held up her basket of flowers. “For something sweet to smell in my rooms while I am in the capital.” Roses and lavender and little red flowers known as dragons breath were piled high and already smelled sweet and fragrant.

“Wonderful choices. I have resorted to keeping perfumed oil under my nose.” She grimaced at revealing her silly secret. “But I shall not keep you any longer. My apologies for pulling you from your day.” 

Ellaria pulled a rose from her bundle and quickly plucked the thorns and cut the stem before tucking it behind the younger woman’s ear. “Apologize for nothing, Lady Tully.” She stood straight and smiled, making her poor heart flutter. “I shall see you again.” And then she walked away, leaving Y/N with a flower in her hair and her heart in her throat. 

                                                          **

Olenna was sitting behind a dark wood desk as Y/N was led into her chambers. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains and the room smelled of cinnamon and tea. She waved a hand, signaling the younger woman to sit at the chair across from her and for the servant to leave. As the door closed, Olenna offered her a bowl of berries which she quickly helped herself to with a soft ‘thank you’ and matching smile.

“I will be frank. I know the Lannisters wish to marry you off to some oaf of a man who will do anything they say.”

She choked on a berry. 

“You are a smart girl, Little Fish. Far smarter than you let anyone see.”

“Lady Olenna-”

“You have helped my family, let us help you. While I would prefer to present you to Willas, he is heir to Highgarden and Tywin Lannister is sure he would see you as the Lady of Riverrun. We will present Loras as a potential suitor for you. He would make a fine husband for you and I know you will understand his leanings.”

Without a berry to choke on, she now wheezed out a breath. Ser Loras’ leanings were an open secret to many. While it did not bother Y/N any, she didn’t understand the logic. “I am failing to see how this will help my cause.” 

“I’ve seen the way you look at women—far more often than you look at men. You are not nearly as subtle as you think you are.” 

“Hm.” Was all She could say. Denying it was a fruitless and draining endeavor. Olenna seemed to be at peace with Loras and his proclivity for the male form so she didn’t see the need. 

“So, you two could put to rest any sort of whispers and then reign in the Riverlands without the press of the Lannisters at your throats.” 

“And of children? Heirs?” Children had always been a hope for her, not out of duty but she had always wanted a little one to hold and call her own.

“I’m sure you two could work something out,” Olenna tittered. “You’re resourceful.” 

Y/N let out a soft laugh. “I will take your offer into consideration, my lady.” 

Olenna waved her away with a small smile and Y/N left her rooms feeling a little strange. It was a blessing to have an ally such as Olenna Tyrell, but knowing that she would not truly see or help in the goal to see the Lannisters wiped from existence left something sour in her mouth. 

The only true allies she could identify, outside of her family, were the Martells. 

Just the thought of Sansa being safe—being alive—usually had her standing a little straighter. And now she had Oberyn, the faceless-but-surely-handsome Oberyn, to lift her spirits, too. It had been some time since his last letter, stating that Sansa had taken to reading to his youngest daughter, Loreza. It seemed Sansa had found a happy life in Dorne. 

She just hoped she could make it last. 

She rounded the corner, nearly at her chambers when the familiar scraping of metal against stone stopped her. It was the Sabaton and Greave of a heavy armor, stomping through the halls of the Keep. And she knew who those steps belonged to—only one man could shake the ground like that.

“Tully.” 

She froze. 

Gregor Clegane stood at end of the hall, just in front of her chamber door with his helmet shoved beneath his arm. He sneered as he looked at her and, despite the distance between them, she felt like she could feel him breathing, sticky and disgusting, against her neck.

“Clegane.” She spit out the name. Her heart was thundering behind her ribs in an angry beat. The very sight of him made her wish for a blade. While Sandor was (reluctantly) kind at heart, there was nothing redeemable about his older brother. His three dead wives, the suspicious death of his younger sister, Sandor’s mutilating burn. All of it was Gregor. His soul was charred ash. 

His face split in a sneer. “You have been hiding from me, girl.” 

She held up her chin, defiant. “I hide from nothing. Certainly not a mindless sword such as you.” 

His sneer disappeared, lips curling to bare his teeth, yellow and crooked. “I’ve killed men for less.” 

“I’m sure you have. But not me.” Her fists curled into the skirts of her dress, slick with sweat. “You will never touch me.” 

“I will break you, girl. Have you screaming beneath me like a common whore.”

“Lady Tully!” Tywin Lannister strode into the hall, light eyes focused solely on her. 

And she had never been so thankful to see the old lion. “Lord Tywin.”

His gaze turned to The Mountain and his thin lips pressed into a hard line. “You are dismissed, Ser Gregor.”

The knight bowed and walked away, but not without raking his eyes over her one last time. She tried not to shiver as her stomach rolled in disgust. 

“He is a fine swordsman but an embarrassment to high-born company.”

That was an understatement. “How may I help you, Lord Tywin? I assumed the Small Council was still in congress at this hour.”

“We adjourned early.” He stepped closer and she had to will herself to not take a step back out of reflex. Just as she was with Gregor, she was alone with Tywin Lannister. She had traded one monster for another. “Walk with me.” He grasped her arm and gave her very little choice in the matter, almost dragging her through the stone halls. “His Grace’s wedding to Margaery Tyrell is in a few short days. As you will be the only member of your household attending, I would deem it wise to have you sit at the head table, at our side. It would not be appropriate for you to be unattended.” 

The fact that he seemed to believe his own logic was infuriating. It was only exacerbated by the fact that she could not refute it. But she knew there was more than her propriety at stake. “That is most gracious, Lord Tywin. But would it be polite? I am not of His Grace’s family nor a Tyrell.” 

Tywin stopped and forced her to do the same. He turned to her and his cold fingers slid down her arms, barely touching before he grasped her hands and held them up, just under his chin so she could feel his breath against her fingers. “Your concern for my family’s reputation is honorable, Lady Tully. But I insist. You will sit beside us.” He looked her in the eye and pressed a kiss to her knuckles before releasing her hands.

She quickly curtseyed. “Of course, Lord Tywin. As you wish.”

“Wonderful.” He drew out the syllables. “I have one other gift for you. I would have you attend the Small Council meetings so that you may learn how to properly govern Riverrun when we seat you on your ancestral throne.”

The invitation was shocking. Very few women were privy to such gatherings and she knew, in any other life, that she would be enamored with the idea and anyone who offered it so openly. But this was Tywin Lannister. And Lannisters always pay their debts. But he was never going to let her refuse. She knew it. “It would be an honor, Lord Tywin. I thank you for the guidance.” 

He smirked, as if knowing he’d won, and they said their goodbyes before she quickly walked to her chambers, desperate for her original destination. She flung open the door and then quickly locked it behind her. Hot, angry tears blurred her vision as she leaned her forehead against the wood. They slid down her cheeks in thick rivulets and only served to make her angrier. She pushed away from the door and flopped onto her bed with a huff, feeling very much like a child—petulant and powerless. 

Everything was quickly slipping away from her and out of her control. All of it, all of the placating gestures, the twisting of her morals to survive to help Sansa escape, the planning. All of it. All of it was falling apart. She should have left with Sansa. Everything would have been easier. She curled a pillow into tried to will herself to sleep.

“Will you be my champion, Ser Aemon?” She tried to make her voice airy and breathy, how she assumed Queen Naerys had spoken. They were deep in the wolfswood outside Winterfell. But the colors were wrong. Instead of the cold tones of white and grey and brown, everything was red and gold and orange, like she was seeing it through candlelight. She watched as her younger-self placed a crown of twisted branches over her head with a giggle she tried to suppress. Both of them were just past their one-and-ten nameday and had taken to making mischief as often as they could. Their favorite stories were of Queen Naerys and Ser Aemon, the Dragonknight. Their history was filled with tales of valor and heartache--perfect fodder for their growing imaginations.

Robb kneeled in front of her, taking his role very seriously. “Yes, my queen.”

Young Y/N stifled another giggle but quickly attempted to regain her composure, staying in her role. “Arise, my Dragonknight.” 

Robb did as he was told, fighting a smile of his own before they both burst into a fit of laughter. Y/N took the wooden sword from its place on a broken stump and handed it to him with a flourish and he grasped it and held it aloft, yelling into the cold, morning air as if he had already won a great battle. His cheeks were flushed against the cold but his lips were warm as he pressed them against her hand. She could remember it all so easily. “I shall avenge your honor, my queen. I swear it.” 

“Lord Robb!” Maester Luwin called out, voice echoing in the forest. It echoed and echoed and echoed and grew louder until all it was, was a roar that shook the trees. 

Robb suddenly grabbed her hand and started tugging her through the trees. “Run, my queen. Or we’ll be forced to suffer more Valyrian lessons!” The trees twisted as the pair ran away, forming a wall and climbing higher and higher into the sky until it blotted out the sun. Then the trees twisted and reached out to her and their wooden fingers circled her throat and choked the air from her lungs.

As she woke with a gasp and the dying light now filtering through her small window, she could still hear Robb’s laughter ringing in her ears.

                                                         **

The Small Council Chamber was nothing she had dreamt of when she had let herself believe she could one day be powerful. It was just a stone room with a few windows and a large table. She counted the chairs and frowned when she couldn’t place all the titles that went with each.

“You are early.” 

She leapt at the sound of the voice and quickly turned at curtseyed in front of Cersei who smirked and settled herself into the chair closest to the head seat. “I wanted to be sure I was not late, Your Grace. It is a great honor to be invited.”

Cersei looked at her and her smirk widened. “Yes. It is, isn’t it? I asked my lord father to invite you. When the Riverlands are yours to govern, we would not have you mishandle them.” She pulled out the chair beside her. “Sit.”

She quickly did. “I do not want to disappoint you, Your Grace. But, would it be imprudent for me to take notes? To see how the duties are presented.” There was a bit of parchment and ink she could use, sitting on the edge of the table. Cersei nodded and Y/N had to will herself not to scramble for it. While this invitation would surely be used against her at a later date, there was no use in completely forgetting what happened in the chamber. “While we are waiting, Your Grace, may I fetch you anything?”

“The last time you went to fetch me wine, Lady Tully, you nearly died. I would have you close for now.”

The quill in her hand nearly snapped at that, even if delivered in Cersei’s usual droll. An admission of somewhat reluctant care for her well-being had not been what she had hoped to earn when she woke this morn, but it was definitely a welcome surprise, even if it did make her all the more suspicious of the Lannisters’ intentions. All she said in response was, “Yes, Your Grace.”

And Cersei seemed fine with that.

Other men filtered in, casting questioning looks in Y/N’s direction but never voiced them as they looked at Cersei at her side. 

Well, except for Grand Maester Pycelle. “Are you lost, Lady Tully? This is no place for a lady!”

“I requested her presence.” Everyone scrambled to their feet as Tywin entered the chamber. “She is to see how a functioning government is kept.” Tywin looked at her as he took his seat and she quickly glanced down at her empty bits of parchment.

Pycelle muttered something else under his breath but took his seat and cast a side-eyed glance at Y/N one more time before the meeting actually started.

Soon, the parchment was filled with notes and she was scrambling to tidy them as the meeting was adjourned. To his credit, it seemed like Tywin was the only one who knew how to have a functioning council but it was still a mess. But perhaps he intended it to be like that—so he could be the smartest man in the room. 

“My lord,” she started as the others had started to leave. “I noticed there are more seats than people. Will there be more lords on the council after the wedding?”

Tywin looked at the empty chairs and then back at her, a smirk pulling at his lips. “Everything is a piece to played, my lady. You’ll see.” 

He escorted her back to her rooms and left her with another kiss to her hand and a promise to invite her back to the Small Council “soon.” And she was happy to be alone again. Daisy had been excused after helping her dress and ready for the day, leaving her by herself. 

It had been almost two weeks since she’d received her last letter from Dorne. It was probably for the best; it wasn’t as if she had any family left to write to her so it would be suspicious if she had received a letter from the Riverlands now. She hoped Sansa and Oberyn were well. Safe. Happy. All of it. If she couldn’t have it, she hoped someone else could. When she was feeling particularly melancholy, she would pull the rose she’d received from the mysterious and beautiful Ellaria from its hiding spot under her carefully, gently folded chemises and press it under her nose. The scent was faint now, but it still brought a smile to her face. (She had never actually found the earrings she was searching for that day.) After the meeting, she had stayed to the quiet of her rooms instead of the godswood. The chattering from the guests arriving for the wedding in the gardens had bled into that small haven and forced her retreat if she wanted to save her sanity. She was reading a book on the War of the Ninepenny Kings when there was a knock at her door. She grumbled and placed her book down before walking to the door and hauling it open, prepared to see some Lannister or Tyrell handmaiden requesting her presence somewhere—but instead, she saw a handsome young man with black hair pulled into a small bun on the back of his head. His robes were tan with golden thread with a burnt orange undershirt left open. “Lady Tully,” he said, a soft accent touching her ears. “I have a delivery for you. From Dorne.” His smile was small, but knowing. “Prince Oberyn send his regards, my lady.” Before she could even thank him, he disappeared and left an ornate chest just on the inside of her chamber door. The chest was of a reddish wood, inlaid with golden suns and thick, bold metal strappings. It smelled faintly of citrus and was slick with a fine varnish.

Before she could even open the chest, Daisy had scurried into her rooms, cheeks flush with worry. “The Queen is on her way, my lady.”

And she was right, Cersei arrived soon with a thinly veiled look of curiosity in her green eyes as she looked at the chest. “A gift from Dorne?” 

Y/N and Daisy quickly curtseyed as Y/N easily thought of a lie. “Not quite, Your Grace. I wanted to have the finest gown for His Grace’s wedding to Lady Margaery, behind yours of course. And my dresses are much more suited for the climate of the Riverlands. The seamstresses in the capital were all far too busy for my liking and I wanted to be sure that I would not embarrass myself with a poorly-hewn frock.”

“My seamstress could have found room for you.”

She pressed a look of shock to her face. “Your Grace is far too charitable. I have taken enough of your time and resources when my family has caused the Crown such irksome troubles.”

Cersei looked pleased with her answer, nose held a little higher in the air. “You are a credit to your bloodline, Y/N. But do ask for her when the next opportunity arises. I would not have you dressed like a Dornish tart.”

Anger rolled her stomach but she smiled as if she had been complimented. “Thank you, Your Grace. I will.”

Cersei excused herself and Daisy finally lifted her head from its tuck to her chest and she softly shut the door, rolling her eyes the entire time.

“Help me to unseal this.” 

Daisy quickly did as she was told and they attempted to pry it open but were unsuccessful until Y/N gave in and pulled a knife from under her featherbed and cut the seal.

“Oh…my lady. That is a mighty fine dress.” 

And it was. Nestled in the chest was a soft, sunshine yellow samite dress of a Dornish style. It would show off an ample amount of cleavage with a near-scandalous neckline but did preserve most of her modesty with long bell sleeves made of matching Myrish lace. Small, golden suns were stitched throughout along with silver stars and moons, and she knew a train of modest length would follow her even with her heeled shoes. It seemed her lie had been prophetic.

Daisy bent and pulled something else from the chest: a neatly folded bit of parchment. 

Y/N carefully set her dress on her bed before taking the letter. She unfolded it and laughed even as more heat took to her cheeks. 

So that I may know you on sight. 

The familiar viper was pressed to the corner in red ink.

                                                      **

The date of the wedding had arrived and she grew more nervous with each passing moment, even as Daisy attempted to make her laugh as she helped her into her dress and uncomfortable heeled boots.

“You are not the bride, my lady. Cease your shaking.” Daisy grasped at one of her hands and squeezed. “And if the whispers I hear are true, your Prince had been in the capital for a few days now.”

“You are not helping, Daisy. Why would that information give me comfort?”

The girl laughed and finished lacing the black closure of the dress with a flourish. “You are finished. Lady Margaery has asked for you in the Maidenvault. You must hurry.”

She squeezed Daisy’s hands in thanks and told her to help herself to the wine and relax in her chambers for the rest of the day before leaving and quickly making her way to the Maidenvault. It was awash with Tyrell green and gold and nearly vibrating with energy as women went this way and that, preparing for the ceremony. 

“You’ve made it!” Margaery exclaimed, seeing her through the crowd. 

She quickly made her way to the side of the soon-to-be-queen and curtseyed. “How may I help you-”

“You look quite beautiful. Dornish, is it not?” Margaery reached out and trailed a finger across one of the suns just above her breast. If she felt her poor heart leap, Margaery blessedly didn’t mention it.

“It is.”

“Nearly scandalous,” Margaery said with a wink.

And Y/N nearly snorted at that—Margaery’s dresses were, largely, much more bold.

“But don’t change. It will be nice to see some color beside red and gold on my wedding day.” Maegaery squeezed her hands and then scowled as a handmaiden shoved a pin into her hair.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” Y/N said, noticing how Margaery preened with the title, “I was told you asked me here for a reason.”

Margaery smiled again. “Yes, I wanted to personally ask you to save a dance for my brother, Ser Loras. He has been asking to make your acquaintance for some time now.” The twinkle in her eye did little to settle the knots in Y/N’s stomach. Almost everyone in the entire room, and there were quite a few, had taken a look at her then, at the mention of Loras’ name.

“I would be delighted, Your Grace.”

Margaery suddenly pulled her into a hug, ignoring the squawk her handmaiden let out as she had just about placed another pin, and held her tight. “You’ve made me very happy, Little Fish.”

“I am glad to hear it. It is your wedding day, after all,” Y/N said as she pulled back. “Now, you must excuse me.”

“Of course,” Margaery said, still smiling. “I shall see you in a moment.”

Y/N quickly exited, ignoring the strange looks she was receiving on her way out form the Tyrell retinue, and made her way toward the Great Sept of Baelor, filling in with the crowds and finding her place. It was more toward the front of the crowd than she had anticipated and her thoughts once again turned to how the Lannisters were planning something. At least with the Tyrells, she knew whom she could expect. Lords and Ladies from the Westerlands were at her back and was soon greeted by Ser Kevan Lannister and his wife, Lady Dorna Swyft in her row. They greeted her warmly, mentioning how both Cersei and Tywin mentioned her and she did her best to act pleased.

A flash of gold caught her eye a few rows ahead and she turned to see a golden headdress, rows of golden chain looped together, placed over a head of shiny, inky black hair. It was preposterous to believe it could be Ellaria, she knew. But, oh, she hoped. The man next to the woman with the golden headdress was handsome, from what she could see of his face. A strong nose and pouty lips that smiled as he looked at his companion and he was draped in a soft tan fabric that shimmered only slightly when the sunlight hit it just so. Perhaps it was Oberyn. Again, a fanciful thought. But his letter and the dress had made his intention clear that he would be at the wedding and there, of course, had been the usual whispers that Prince Oberyn had travelled in Prince Doran’s stead to represent Dorne during the festivities. He could and should be here.

“It is a marvelous moment, no?” Kevan asked, whispering in her ear. “The dawn of a new era.”

“Indeed,” Y/N said as the soft music started, signaling the arrival of the bride. “It is.”

                                                         **

It was a pleasant surprise to see she was to be seated beside Tyrion and Tommen at the festivities following the ceremony. While still Lannisters, they were decidedly the best of the brood. Tyrion made her laugh and Tommen was kind.

“Have you tried the boar, my prince? It is quite good.”

Tommen speared some of the meat from her plate with a playful smile as Tyrion softly, fondly chided him. “It is good, my lady.” The young prince quickly stole another bite.

“My lady,” Tyrion started as he stood from his chair, “would you be so kind as to join me for the next dance?” He held out a hand toward her with a small smile.

She did not want to. Not because of his stature but because of his family and how it echoed in her mind that the Lannisters were set on marrying her off. He was kind, it was true, but that did not make this easier. “Of course, Lord Tyrion.” She stood and grasped his hand, letting him lead her away from the large red and gold tent and into the fray of couples arranging themselves in two lines as the musicians readied for the next song.

The music started and she quickly tried to remember the steps that this dance required. A few steps forward toward her partner then a turn to the side to grasp a hand, turn once, twice, then step back and the partner on the left would step to the side and the dance would begin again with a new partner, again and again, until the entire line had been turned and the original partners were reunited again. For what it was worth, Y/N had to admit that Tyrion chose a smart dance to share with her—they hardly touched or spent any time looking at each other. Almost as if he knew her discomfort.

He bowed to her and she to him and they began the dance. He was mindful not to step on her gown as they circled each other and he gave her another fond smile before they switched partners. There was an older Lord from the Stormlands, followed by a knight from the Westerlands and then a familiar green and gold brocade gathered her attention as she stepped in front of her next partner.

Ser Loras looked relieved as he recognized her. “Lady Tully.”

“Ser Loras.” He was undoubtedly handsome, with his soft blonde curls and dancing, blue eyes and Y/N could let herself pretend, for a moment that she could be happy being married off to someone like him— strictly aesthetically, anyway. “I have been told to save you a dance by our new queen.”

He laughed as he grasped her hand and they turned. “Would you?”

“Yes, Ser Loras. I’d be happy to.”

He smiled again and they finished their turn before the next partner came. The dance eventually finished and Tyrion took her hand again and led her back to their table. Tommen now had a heaping pile of the boar on his plate and was devouring it. She stole a bite from his plate and he laughed. His laughter, however, drew the eye of Cersei and Tywin Lannister.

They both looked at her at the far table and she pretended not to notice as she laughed with Tommen and let Tyrion fill her chalice with more wine. It would be better if they didn’t think she was putting on a show.

Another set of musicians stepped up in front of Joffrey and Margaery and played another round of ‘The Rains of Castamere.’ It had been the fifth one already and it was hardly an hour into the festivities. Joffrey lobbed a handful of coin at them and sent them on their way.

Another song for the dancing couples went by, and another followed. The wine was making her head swim the smallest bit as she spotted Loras making his way toward her. Olenna was at his side, required to make the introduction for niceties sake and then they were off.

The musicians called out the dance and Y/N had to arch an eyebrow at Loras. This one would keep her close, almost intimate, but still playful enough that it wouldn’t be imprudent for mixed company. He shrugged and held her hands in his, easily guiding her through the steps. “Surely you know what they’re planning,” he whispered in her ear.

“Oh yes. We could make quite a match.” She twirled under his arm, following the steps, and let herself be caught in his arms, her back to his chest as the dance continued. “But why would you agree to such a thing, Loras?” Her voice was low. “King Renly…” Words had to be chosen carefully. “You loved him. I’ve heard tales about it. Why would you tether yourself to someone you could never love?”

The knight’s grip tightened just a fraction. “When the sun has set, no candle can replace it.”

And her heart broke with the pain in his voice. Thankfully, the dance needed her to turn and face him, placing her hands over one of his shoulders as she kicked, letting her dress flutter and glisten in the sunlight. “We can be friends, can we not? To find some happiness in this arrangement?”

He smiled then and almost laughed as she nearly missed a step. “I would like that, very much.”

They finished the dance, her heart a little lighter than it had been and he gently took her hand and started to lead her toward her table before she noticed him blushing. Y/N tried to find where he was looking and found Ellaria hand-feeding berries to the most beautiful man she had ever seen. It was a wonderful surprise to realize the woman she had been ogling during the ceremony had been Ellaria. But who was the man? Seeing him in the sunlight, completely, was beautiful. Just as beautiful as Ellaria. No wonder they seemed so besotted with each other.

“That is Prince Oberyn,” Loras whispered in her ear. “Gorgeous, isn’t he?”

“He is.” Why lie? Anyone with eyes could see how he was meant to be painted, immortalized for everyone to revere.

“Shall I introduce you? I made his acquaintance earlier today.” There was a slight shyness to Loras’ tone that made her smile. He was like a little boy with an infatuation.

And she would finally meet him. But would their easy companionship filter over from their letters? Nerves had twisted her stomach when she thought of Oberyn not deeming her worthy of his beautiful word any longer. “I would be grateful.” 

Loras led her through the crowd and Ellaria spotted them first. A happy smile touched her lips and she whispered something in Oberyn’s ear. He let his gaze slowly slide over to them, almost disinterested but she could see the playful glint in his eyes. And his own smile widened when he looked at her. Ellaria slid off his lap and walked over to them, dragging Y/N from Loras’ side.

“Finally. Someone worth speaking to.” She pressed a kiss to both of Y/N’s quickly warming cheeks and tugged her toward the table. “Come, Ser Loras. You can join us.”

Loras awkwardly sat across from Oberyn as Ellaria planted Y/N between herself and Oberyn, a hand already fond of tracing the suns stitched into her dress. “I was unaware you knew Lady Tully.”

“We met in the market. She has yet to meet my prince.”

“Yes, well, Prince Oberyn, I present-”

“Lady Tully. Yes.” He grasped one of her hands and brought it to his mouth to kiss the tips of her fingers, somehow making a shiver shoot down her spine as he never broke eye contract. “I have heard of you. And that is a fine dress. Dornish, isn’t it?” He smiled at the last question.

“It is—I’ve never had such a beautiful dress. I’m very fortunate. And, of course, it is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Oberyn. I hope your travels to the capital were pleasant.” Y/N was proud of herself for keeping her voice so steady despite his piercing stare. Perhaps it was the hidden joke, the secret in their verbal volley who made her a little more at ease. None of her nerves had been proven correct just yet. And she hoped they never would.

“The Capital is never pleasant, and the journey was tedious. But the company, it seems, to have finally evolved into something enjoyable.” He then smirked at Loras and pulled a berry from the bowl in front of him and tossed it into his mouth.

Loras’ pretty cheeks filled with pink and he averted his eyes and the cogs in Y/N’s mind quickly started to turn. “Ellaria, I have heard there is quite a display of Lysene contortionists somewhere around here. Shall we let the men talk?”

Ellaria laughed and let a finger trail across Y/N’s cheek. “I know exactly where these contortionists are. I will show you.” She stood and Y/N followed and they linked arms as they set off away from the dancing couples and the food tables. Ellaria’s hand covered hers as it rested on her arm. “That was very kind of you, my lady. To let Oberyn have his fun with that pretty knight.”

“Yes, well,” Y/N chanced a glance over her shoulder to see that Loras had switched to the other side of the table and Oberyn was whispering something in his ear, “it seemed Loras had been a bit smitten and who am I to stand in the way of that?”

“You do not mind that he likes both? My Oberyn?” The question was asked quietly, Ellaria’s lips close to her ear.

“I like both. It is comforting to know there is another like me.” And it felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest to finally say it aloud. Of course, the Tullys knew of it, but they had very little patience to understand it so she had been forced to only live it in shadowed corners. And when she had moved to King’s Landing, it wasn’t an option for her to explore. There was an easy air about Ellaria, open and honest. That is perhaps why Y/N had felt so nonplussed to reveal her own secret.

“More than just Oberyn,” Ellaria said, her grip tightening just a fraction.

And Y/N’s heart leapt and bounced. “Truly?” The word was almost strangled from her throat as they neared the area of the fire-breathers and contortionists and jugglers, slipping through a display of the gifts the Brat King had received from his guests.

“You are not alone,” Ellaria whispered with a teasing smile. But then another question had Ellaria’s brow arching. “And what of your thoughts of loving more than one?”

“More than one person at a time? I have not loved one person. I would not know how to love two.” She frowned as she thought of it. There was love for her family, and a companionable affection for people like Daisy. But love? Real, romantic love? It had always been a distant daydream. Stolen kisses in shadows from pretty ladies and the occasional second son of a lord was as close as she had ever come to it.

“There is love in your heart, I know it. Can feel it. Passion waiting to be unleashed.” They turned a corner and a burst of fire greeted them. They had found their destination. The fire-breather danced away, leaving the scent of smoke and ash behind. “In Dorne, we embrace our passion. Lords and ladies have their paramours and lovers and take what they want.” She let her fingers trail down to take Y/N’s hand and raised it to her lips and kissed the pads of her fingers, just as Oberyn had done a moment ago.

Y/N swallowed the hard lump in her throat as Ellaria’s dark eyes lifted to meet hers. “Dorne sounds like a paradise.”

“It can be. If one has the right soul for it.” The older woman stood straight and continued to lead her toward the tables filled with contortionists.

“Do I?” Y/N asked. Could she be happy in a place like Dorne, unfettered by the social constructs she’d been born into?

Ellaria looked at her and smiled, wolfish and hungry. She said nothing and pulled her along to see the men and women twist and turn in almost unnatural ways and would murmur the position names in her ear like an illicit secret.

All of it was bubbling into something strange under Y/N’s skin, making her warm with each passing syllable and each new position they encountered only coiled something tighter until they were all a blur in her mind and all she could hear was Ellaria’s melodic hum in her ear and smell her perfume. Y/N was not so innocent to not understand that she was roused and yearning for some indelicate headiness, but she had never before been so close to achieving it. Only her own fingers had given her reprieve in the past but now Ellaria was staring at her like a tiger faced with a meal and she couldn’t wait to be devoured.

“Come. Surely there is a quiet place for you to catch your breath.” Ellaria had not let go of her hand yet and it seemed unlikely she would do so now as they walked through the masses, slipping out of the festival grounds and into the gardens. It was decidedly quieter but the music from the bards and musicians and the laughter of the crowds still filtered through the greenery, now muted and soft. The pair walked for a moment before finding a corner with a stone wall in the shadows, a reprieve from the heat of the sun. 

And, as Y/N went to thank her companion for the respite, Ellaria pushed her against a wall and pressed her mouth to hers and stole her breath. Coaxing her mouth was easy and Ellaria almost laughed as Y/N whined against her lips. The quiet desperation that she had felt was now bursting forth as Ellaria easily coaxed her lips apart and delved her tongue into her mouth.

“Responsive, that’s good,” Ellaria hummed as he broke for a moment. Her hands slid from the other woman’s shoulders down her sides to grab handfuls of the yellow fabric at her hips and dragged her waist closer and wedging a thigh between hers. A choked breath pushed through Y/N’s lips at the delicious pressure against her core. “You taste so sweet.”

“Oh, please,” Y/N gasped, not knowing what she was begging for. To stop. To never stop. “Please.”

Ellaria suddenly grabbed at the back of Y/N’s neck to pull her head closer, angling her abruptly so she could kiss her thoroughly, devour her with spit-slicked lips and smiling teeth and dominating every sense she had despite Y/N’s some-what apparent lack of experience. And Y/N could have sworn she’d never felt such ecstasy in a touch like this—until Ellaria trailed her fingers against Y/N’s heaving chest, feeling the warmth she exuded and how soft her skin was before dipping beneath the fabric to cup Y/N’s breast and this time she did laugh as Y/N gasped again. She kneaded her and felt Y/N’s heart hammering and racing as she continued to draw whines and whimpers from her pretty little mouth. Deft fingers found her pebbled nipple and circled and tugged again and again before once again starting her slow torture of simply massaging the tortured flesh.

Y/N’s hands tried to find purchase in anything, the cold stone behind her, the fabric of Ellaria’s dress, but finally grabbed at Ellaria’s neck so she could thread her fingers into the hair at the back of her head, barely mindful of the golden chains in her locks, and hold her close—she needed her closer.

“You sing so prettily for me,” Ellaria said as her nose trailed against Y/N’s cheek, her other hand still anchored around her neck. “I’ve barely touched you.” A final squeeze to her chest and then her fingers retreated…only to start to trail down toward her skirts. “Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” Y/N blindly answered. “Touch me.”

“Oh.”

Y/N instantly stiffened at being caught, her own hands pulling away from the other woman.

“That will have to wait, I’m afraid,” came a voice just over Ellaria’s shoulder.

Ellaria’s lovely touch withdrew and she carefully pulled Y/N’s dress back to cover her chest with a wink before she turned, almost leisurely, to see who had stumbled upon them.

Loras was blushing a pretty shade of red and looking steadfastly up into the clouds while Oberyn simply smirked at the pair of women. The sight was a welcome one—surely these two could keep a secret.

“You’ve nearly made a mess of our young Lady Tully, my love,” Oberyn said as he stepped forward to grasp at Ellaria’s hand and he tugged her close to press a slow kiss against her lips. “And does she taste as pretty as she looks?”

“She does,” Ellaria agreed as she looked back at Y/N who was still pressed against the garden wall. “A taste from the source would be much sweeter.” The innuendo was not lost on anyone present.

“I’m sure it would.” Oberyn’s hand curled around Ellaria’s hip and he drew her closer. “But that will have to wait. Her absence has been noted by too many.”

Y/N sagged with the news. It had to have been the Lannisters. No one else would mind if she disappeared with a fellow guest for a few moments at a celebration such as this. “Thank you for finding us first, my prince.” She brushed her hands against her skirts to help them lay flat and straightened her shoulders before pressing the back of her hand to her cheeks to help them cool before starting to walk toward the banquet again. Only to be stopped by a roughened hand on her arm. Oberyn’s grip was not hard, she knew she could wriggle out of it without any effort.

“Your appearance will not keep a secret in that state, my lady.” Then, without much fanfare or warning, he started to gently right her mussed clothes and straightened the filigreed back across the top of her head to once again give her the air of a civilized lady.

His touch was always gentle, taking care to never pull or tug too harshly, and Y/N felt her heart trying to escape her chest for the second time that day and leap into the hands of a Dornishman. She tried to focus on the golden chain around his neck instead of staring at his face but then all she managed to do was appreciate his defined chest and how he smelled like ripe berries and sandalwood with a touch of spice she could not place. His full lips were parted and nearly pursed as he worked, making them ever more tempting and she felt foolish to even let such a thought cross her mind when she hardly knew him. 

But, she hardly knew Ellaria who had her panting like a whore only moments earlier. He was every bit as entrancing as Ellaria, she was rue to admit. His gentle touch only exacerbated how flustered she felt. The pair was dangerous. 

“Shall I pass inspection, my prince?” She asked, clasping her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking as he finished.

“Tell them you’ve been enjoying the less polite entertainment if they ask where you’ve gone, my lady.” It was said with a smirk and his thumb brushed against her bottom lip, making her shiver again.

“Thank you for the guidance.” She bid them adieu and squeezed Loras’ arm as she walked away and rejoined the festivities.

A/N: All right...so, that’s part one. I’ve tried to draw on a few plot lines from the books that didn’t make it into the television series, but if you have any questions, please just ask. I welcome feedback. The next chapter will (hopefully) be shorter and out soon. Cross your fingers. 

[friiday-thirteenth]

hi uhhh people? bro i forgot how to greet you guys for a full second there lmao

disclaimer: I'm literally just giving you a rundown of what I've been doing for an hour.

anyway! instead of sleeping bc I was tired, I did something else bc I also have a brain that like categories for seemingly arbitrary things, such as books.

backstory bc its great: I started moving my room around last night, but i had to stop bc I was taking everything out, vacuuming, then moving my bed and all the shit under it, vacuuming there, and then it was like. 9.30 and i was truly tired. then today I moved my dresser and three bookshelves back in and therein begins the story

so I took everything out of my bookshelves, which are tiny and can hold like. 21 good sized books each, which is pathetic, because I have a ridiculously large amount of books that reside within my room.

I sorted those things into groups of author and uh, "genre" which basically boiled down to fun categories such as

really really big (volume of books big, not fame big) series/authors that're fantasy

anti-capitalist fiction that seems really fucking capitalism

non-fiction/books that feel like non-fiction

that one series that I love beyond measure and is where I took Friday from (Friday Barnes by R.A. Spratt)

fiction/sci-fi that I can just... read

fiction that doesn't feel like fiction/books I love from a younger time (artists are crazy and other stories, my beloved <3)

and then there are the authors/series I've got separate categories for:

Tamora pierce (hnghhhhh I love so much)

Rick Riordan

harry potter (bro I still like the books don't sue me. I'm far more critical of the writing tho lmao)

folk of air

six of crows

his dark materials my absolutely fucking beloved <3

the Medora chronicles

yeah there's more but I cbf ANYWAY

then I went out to the shed (that word is not doing it justice. its literally the size of my house. its a second building of its own right, really.) and sorted through boxes of books that we just chuck out there whenever mum has a crisis over the state of the house, and grabbed so many books. like, heaps.

but the thing is, out there is where the good old books are stored, like a bunch of Eoin Colfer ones (supernaturalists.... the wish list.... airman.... half-moon investigations..... Artemis fowl..... hnghhhhhh), a poetry book I had been reading online bc I didn't know we had it, The Hobbit, a bunch of Nancy Drew, and like. Wuthering heights.

and so I brought those (and more sbfbfv) inside and now I have so many piles, sorted and unsorted, just sitting on my floor. my room consists of a bed, a dresser, a lamp, three tiny bookshelves, and shit tons of books.

oh, plus the boxes filled with all of Charles Dickens work in matching covers, plus the complete works of shakespeare that's formatted like a fucking Bible. same type of paper and everything.

OH, AND I WENT OUTSIDE IN THE M I D D L E O F T H E N I G H T, in the freezing cold (bc its hitting winter here) in shorts and a t-shirt when I went to the shed. like. jfc idiot. then i fumbled around in the dark to find the light switch, as I was listening to the episode of welcome to nightvale where the computer comes to life bc the wallaby's daughter, Meghan, is literally just a man's hand. it's very terrifying to here a weird-ass computer voice just. play creepily through your earbuds, I'll tell you that.

here have some book related anecdotes that don't relate to this post whatsoever apart from the fact that Books

I remember the time it was a really hot day and I sat in the shed and read day of the triffids or whatever the title is. I'm pretty sure people were blinded and this one guy could still see and he got threatened. I was like, ten. I did not read age appropriate things bc I was fucking weird.

life ft. the time me and my friend laughed over the word boob in a book when we were twelve. go us. she's a lesbian now.

i go to second-hand bookstores with my dad whenever we aren't in my hometown, and it's a bad idea because I've come away from those with $50 worth of books before. and there was that one time where dad brought me the entirity of Charles Dickens' books for like, surprisingly cheap.

the Friday Barnes book series I was talking abt is like. it's it's connector between my mum and me bc she got the first one and we'd wait rlly rlly eagerly for the next to be released bc then we could buy it and I'd read it and then she'd read it and I think that's cool.

this has literally been a post about books I hope you have a nice life goodnight for potential reals.

[hathousehappenings]

Character Closet: Hare

I would like to preface all the following information with an author’s note! I am not a professional costumer nor do I have any real education in costume design. I took one costume class in college ages ago and that’s it. All the below information is what I’ve gathered through scouring @teaforten​‘s blog for reference pictures and my own observations while watching the show. All image credit goes to Jenny and Jenna @teaforten and the drawings are mine. I am in no way affiliated with Disney, Betty Productions or Lois DeArmand, nor any of the costume crew who worked on the show.

ALSO, I will only be covering the costumes in these posts! How you decide to draw the rest of the character is completely up to you. Everything I have written below is up to interpretation and can be changed by you when it comes time for you to draw your favorite character!

Warning... below the cut is very image and text heavy! I might have gotten a little carried away...

Now that -that's- out of the way, let's get this show on the road!

(Above image was sourced here)

Oh Hare. We all love you and your wacky sense of style. During the course of the show, Hare had two significant costumes. One I have dubbed the Easter Bunny suit (or coral suit), the other the Blue Vest suit. I will be covering only his Season 1 Easter Bunny suit in this post. The other will come later because jfc the blue suit will be the end of me! I don't think I have it in me to explain that pattern today...

Hare's Season 1 costume is comprised of the following pieces:

American-fit suit Jacket (custom print)

Capri pants (custom print)

Long Sleeved button down shirt (yellow)

Suspenders (orange)

Jazz boots (yellow, often sparkly) with rainbow shoelaces

Knee socks (Right is red, Left is green)

Gloves (yellow)

Diamond Point Bow-tie (purple, stripes)

Wrist watch (outside shirt sleeve on left arm)

Accent buttons for jacket (round domed, yellow and orange)

Round Glasses (duh!)

When I was pulling colors for my first Hare drawing, I went on a deep dive mission on @teaforten to see if there were any decent quality photos of Hare’s suit. This one is probably the most popular and this one is a little grainy, but does the job well enough.

However, I really studied this image in particular. It's a funky one, but it's also one of the clearest scans that we have of Hare's coral suit! Look at all those colors! We have coral, yellow, orange, blue, purple/pink and even some specks of green in there. There's no way this could have possibly translated to television in the early 90's and yet they still made sure to put in those subtle colors to make all the others stand out. And if you study it long enough, you can see a pattern! We'll get into that further along...

As for episodes of the show, the ones that I looked to for the best reference shots of his suit (as of this writing) were Welcome Back, Hatter, Off the Cuffs and For Better or Verse. The colors are a little more muted in WBH, but you can see the pattern fairly well. And the neon in OtC is just something else! Especially when he's running around singing “It's Got To Be (In Here Somewhere)”. There are a lot of really nice closeups when he's doing the handcuff gags and a few nice shots of his back, which gives you an idea of the fuller pattern in general.

But my favorite episode to look at is For Better or Verse. Hare is only in one scene but his suit is -very- consistent with its pattern in it! It's one of the easier ones to duplicate because it's mostly the blue and purple swatches and has less of the pink/yellow/orange that tend to blend in the old footage. Also, it’s perfectly mirrored on both his left and right sides. The above images are all from FBoV.

Now I know what you're all here for... a breakdown of Hare's suit pattern. There's no easy way to say this, but this pattern is completely up to your own interpretation. One thing to keep in mind is that if you pay close attention, Hare has a few different versions of the same suit that he wears over the course of the series. The stripes and colors will shift around his jacket episode to episode. What I took from this is that you don't have to be exact with the placement of things unless you really want to. This is something that I utilize with my own drawings. I have a stripe system that I use but it's by no means exact or even remotely accurate.

For example, here is a picture that I've done up two ways: the left is the way I usually do his jacket (very loosey goosey) and the right is more screen-accurate. You can see the reference image in the top center. Both pictures are using the exact same reference image, but the one that sticks closer to the reference image is a little cleaner while the other just has colors and stripes going every-which-way. They both get the point across, it's just more about which look you like better!

Now, let's look at that original reference image that I referred to above. Do you see the pattern yet? Let's break it down as if we were to try to recreate it...

What I recommend is study the pattern from the black stripes on out. Those are big and bold and will usually fall in the same areas no matter which suit he's wearing. Look at which colors are below those bars.  And then next to those, etc. If you can create a shorthand for this (or learn the repeating pattern) you'll have his jacket down in no time.

In the end it's all about how much time you're willing to spend on learning the pattern and getting it right. It's completely doable and really quite impressive to nail that pattern accurately. It just takes time to learn it. I know this personally from devoting time to the blue suit jacket, which.... I will cover another time.

Even when I made my cosplay for Hare, I decided that the best way for me to achieve his suit pattern was to tie-dye. Obviously this isn't what they did for the show! I believe it was a pattern that was custom designed, printed to fabric and the best bits were used to tailor his suit. You can kind of see in a couple episodes where they had scraps left and he's mostly pink/orange/coral...

The fit of Hare's jacket is American-cut, meaning that it's boxy and hangs off him a bit. I think they did this to give a little more of a size difference between Hatter and Hare. John Hoffman is 6'3 without the hat and Reece Holland is approx 5'10 without the ears and they are both rather slender, so the costumers tried to use clothing to bulk Hare out a little to make more of a difference. You can draw Hare either athletic or chubby, but one thing is for sure: that jacket doesn't do Hare many favors. He tends to swim in it at times.

And you can follow that same pattern from the jacket onto Hare's pants as well. Remember that he has straight legged capri pants, which means they come down to around mid-calf and are rather loose fitting. I think they chose to do this to mimic the proportions of a real hare's legs without having to go full-on fur suit and padding like they had to do with Rabbit. It gives a rounded look to his leg and also makes his feet look a little bigger. It also, once again, bulks him out.

Also, as a note because I don't know where else to stash this little bit of information, the lining inside Hare's jacket is a rainbow of the colors used on the outside of his jacket. He also has three domed buttons on both his sleeves as well as for the closure of the jacket, each alternating orange and yellow colors.

If Hare were to remove his jacket you’d see that he has orange suspenders on as well as a wristwatch that he wears on his left wrist. He also has that purple-striped diamond-point bow-tie, meaning that the sides come to a point rather than being straight (like Hatter’s).

Dropping to his feet, he wears yellow jazz boots. In early promotional shots they look like they are made more of a yellow vinyl, but I don’t think that worked very well once Hare got a’movin. One of the only real close-ups that we get of his shoes is from A Litter Help From My Friends right before the “On Your Side” number. Here we get a better look at the fact that they are glittery and might be made of more of a canvas material. Also, his shoelaces are pastel tie-die. Are his shoes always glittery? Who knows! Maybe those were just his good dancing shoes because he had a very dance-heavy number in the scene. But it’s what we have to go on.

And there we have it! Hare’s costume in a nutshell.

In the many times that I’ve drawn Hare, I’ve added my own touches to the character. I switched out the jazz boots for yellow high-tops, I gave him an orange waste band and for a little while I gave him a butterfly bow-tie. I also practically made up a whole new pattern for his suit just because. I made these choices because they were more appealing to my eye. It’s my interpretation of the character and that’s it.

At the end of the day, I would urge you as the artist to interpret Hare’s costume (as well as all of the other characters in the show) in your own individual way. There is no right or wrong way to go about this. It’s your art, make it the way you want it. If you want to make his suit screen-shot perfect, then you do it! If you’d rather limit your pallet to two or three colors and mimic the pattern doing that, that’s also fine.

This is fanart. It’s meant to be fun. If the thought of coloring Hare’s suit makes you not want to draw him at all, simplify your design. As you get better and get more practice with him, you can add those other details back in later.

Finally, as much as I’ve harped on doing this your own way, if you’re still having issues with his costume, look to the other fanart you have available to you. There are some artists who I greatly admire who get his suit picture-prefect, even when they are just working with graphite. But I would urge you not to copy their design! Make it your own and it’ll mean all that much more to you when you’ve completed your piece.

Questions/Comments/Concerns, drop me a line! I’m by no means an expert but I’m very willing to help out in any way that I can.