#The salt throne

[hauntedbythenarrative]

Salt, Nayyirah Waheed//House of the Dragon (2022-)

[dedalvs]

Salt! Gift of the gods! Pure as silver, it puts the fine in finance! The Valyrian word for "salt" is lopon, but it's likely to show up as lopor, in the collective. Enjoy this gift of salt! Let us take some time today to celebrate salt and all it has done for our dried meats and caramels!

[vroombeams]

Possessiveness & Public/Semi-Public for Oscarmark :)

Oscar goes to one knee before the throne.

He's magnificent, Mark thinks, this creature that has come to him from the sea. A gift from the Drowned God, surely.

"Rise," he says, and Oscar stands, body poised in that careless way he has—deceptive in its looseness, shoulders dropped and face bored.

Mark starts to unlace himself. Oscar stays, impassive. He waits for his command, like a good dog should.

"Another job well done," Mark says, absent as he pulls himself from his breeches, finds himself thickening already.

Oscar dips his head in some approximation of a bow. "My lord." Barely an acknowledgment. His eyes, when he lifts them, are like the rest of him. Feigning disinterest like silk over a sword.

Mark gestures him over, one-handed.

Today, Oscar's brought a bounty; things he's taken from merchant ships out at sea, paid the iron price for. Weapons, and gold, of course. Lush fabrics that Mark has no use for but will trade well with the greenlanders.

Oil, from Dorne. Oscar offers him this personally.

When Mark pours it into an open palm, the oil is deliciously thick, slicks his cock with ease. Smart boy, that he's brought this today.

Mark only has to pat his thigh for Oscar to move. To unlace and climb up into Mark's lap. The throne is wide enough to fit them both. Oscar's knees and thick thighs, snugly bracketing Mark's hips.

Oscar tugs down his trousers just enough for Mark to find what he wants, and he sits obediently when Mark presses against him.

He doesn't speak. In one motion, he braces his hands on the armrests and sheathes Mark inside of him, and Mark settles back in his chair. The only sign he's been breached at all is the pink on his cheeks, stark against bone-white flesh.

He's as tight as the first time, and just as quiet. Quiet even in the times when they've no oil to ease the way, when Mark knows it's spreading him beyond what a body should be able to take. Things that don't matter. Not to Mark, and so not to Oscar.

Oscar doesn't move until Mark smacks sharply at his hip.

He is a vision. Fucking himself on Mark's cock, pale face gone blotchy red. His lips part and he pants with the exertion. Mark has no use for pretty things, but he can appreciate how Oscar is lovely the way the sea is. Dangerous. Merciless. Like salt-water pulled into the shape of a boy, with the loyal heart of a dog.

Oscar shuffles forward on his knees and grips the back of the throne for more leverage. Mark allows it. From here, now, Mark can watch Oscar's lashes flutter as he finds his own incidental pleasure.

He whispers Mark's name, sometimes, when it's like this. No my lord. No title at all, and Mark allows that as well. Because he is in every other way perfection; stone and salt, blood and steel. Everything an Ironborn should be.

[markantonys]

just accidentally stumbled on an egwene hate reddit thread and everyone was bitching about how she tries to act like rand's equal when she's only the second-most powerful authority figure on the continent, and one sane person was like "well, balance was a huge theme of the series, so it's pretty clear that RJ did consider the dragon and the amyrlin two halves of a whole and that rand is meant to be egwene's equal co-authority rather than her superior" and of course they were downvoted to hell. and this one little thread just really epitomizes how the readers who approach WOT as a male power fantasy just fundamentally will never understand the series and its themes and the story it was ACTUALLY telling.

[henri-de-cait]

"There are men who seem to be born to be the reverse, the obverse, the wrong side. They are Pollux, Patrocles, Nisus, Eudamidas, Ephestion, Pechmeja. They only exist on condition that they are backed up with another man; their name is a sequel, and is only written preceded by the conjunction and; and their existence is not their own; it is the other side of an existence which is not theirs." - Les Miserables, Victor Hugo

Just now realized how much of Alicent's character so far has been based on Rhaenyra/Rhaenicent. Her tragedies, her own ambition, her protectiveness of her family etc. have been weakened and her relationship with Rhaenyra emphasized (especially in S2). Many of the highs in her personal narrative in this season have been based on/related to Rhaenyra. Particularly, take a look at the supposed climax of her narrative, in which she cuts herself free from the identities others have imposed upon her (mother, Queen etc.). Alicent has managed to free herself from her duties, her past sacrifices, her own son (side note: by agreeing to let him die, her son whom she stood in front of a dragon for, to whom she said "you imbecile" confirming she did everything for him)—and she cannot let go of Rhaenyra, asking Rhaenyra to "come with [her]." The writers have been so intent on establishing a feminist narrative, but look at the narrative feminists have been trying to defeat for so long: the woman is built upon the man; the woman is "the second" or "the other" to the man; the woman is not an individual but conjoint with the man. Now replace the man with Rhaenyra. Take away Rhaenyra, and how much of Alicent's narrative remains? Did we move past the "other" narrative, or did we simply replace the actors/objects?

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: Lyanna survives the Tower of Joy and marries Robert. Jon is raised as Ned Stark's bastard, wanting for nothing. The realm knows only peace, until a red priestess of R'hllor comes to Lyanna, singing songs of the prince that was promised and a night without end.

Author: @ladyfenring

Note from submitter: Thee asoiaf fic of all time

[highqueenofelfhame]

a/n: happy mermay!! this wasn't supposed to be multiple parts but it started getting a little long. it won't be a full length fic but it will have a few parts for it just to keep it from being one insanely long one shot. i hope you enjoy. pls be kind, i haven't written fantasy in a long time or fantasy like this ever. ok bye <3 PS: IF YOUR TAG IS BOLD IT WOULDN'T LET ME TAG YOU!

masterlist // rowaelin // 5.3k words

Of everything that Rowan Whitethorn had ever been called, stupid was never one of them.

Always at the top of his class, he graduated valedictorian in both high school and college. He worked tirelessly to graduate with a double major in oceanography and marine biology. A decade later, he had a doctorate in the former and worked for the most well respected ocean research institute in the world. Rowan himself was said to be one to watch in their community with his passion and tireless research. 

Right now, however, the only word blasting through his brain was stupid stupid stupid while alarms in his submarine wailed for about fifteen different reasons. Frantic fingers flew across the keyboard to access troubleshooting. Everything was going off. His oxygen inside the craft was plummeting, air pressure was rising, something in the back was hissing,  communication with the surface was down, and he had no fucking idea why. 

Five minutes ago he approached the ruins far beneath the waves and was studying animal activity in the middle of the night. It was by the far the dumbest thing he had ever done, going down at night without telling anyone. The submarine was built for two bodies and there was always a team on land surveying everything about the machine in case something went wrong. He knew better, yet something had been calling to him until he found himself pulling on his clothes and boarding alone. Rowan hadn’t even woken anyone up to ask for assistance. It was a trip he had made so many times over the last few months and he didn’t see the harm in going. 

And now the multi-million dollar submarine had managed to hit something incredibly hard while not moving. Nothing had shown up in the radar. One minute he was scribbling notes on lined paper and the next he was launched out of his seat and into the wall. His body was screaming as he pulled himself into the seat to figure out what the hell happened, but he couldn’t see anything. Rowan wondered what kind of chaos was happening above the water. Everyone would be awake by now and realize that both he and the submarine were gone. 

Still panicked, he kept trying and failing to get the back-up oxygen running. He was down to three percent which should have been fucking impossible for how long he had been below. 

At least he was going to die in the ocean. He had loved it so thoroughly since he was a boy, always feeling drawn to the water. At least there was this. 

“Burning hell,” he heard, but it wasn’t his voice. Rowan quickly surveyed the submarine and came to the conclusion that he was alone. But where did that voice come from? The accent was unlike anything he had ever heard but it was so lovely. All rolling letters and curved syllables,  it nearly entranced him. Whoever she was, her voice was the most gorgeous song he had ever heard and there was a tug—

Metal groaned and cracked, popped and exploded to nothing and suddenly he was launched through the water. By the grace of the gods, he managed to get one gulp of air into his lungs before being swept out into the iciest cold he had ever felt. It was pointless. He was going to die. How he hadn’t burst into a billion pieces at exposure to such high water pressure was absolutely beyond him. That one quick breath wouldn’t save him. 

Maybe he was already dead. 

With his body going into shock and the submarine sinking in pieces and chunks to the ocean floor, there was no way he wasn’t one hundred percent a dead man. It didn’t make sense that he hadn’t blown to bits, that he had seemingly stopped flipping and hurtling through the water. Everything around him suddenly felt warm like the ocean was wrapping him in a loving embrace. 

Definitely dead, then. 

If he was still alive against all odds, he didn’t have much time left. Despite being an excellent swimmer with lungs that could sustain him under water for several minutes, he didn’t have the time to get a proper breath. Still, he opened his eyes, rapidly blinking as the salt burned, invisible tears escaping into nothing. He shouldn’t be able to see anything this deep without the lights, and yet… 

Something was glowing. It was a radiant golden light floating closer and closer to where he waded. Which also shouldn’t be possible, but he supposed all bets were off when you were dead. Perhaps this was all a dream and he would wake up soon, haunted by that lovely, lilting voice he didn’t want to forget. 

“I can’t do this for very long,” Gods, that voice. His panic seemed to cease at the sound of it. A sense of calm washed over him and the sudden sensation of air whooshing up his nose had him exhaling the breath he was holding. Rowan blinked again, that blurry orb of bright light turning into a woman. 

Mala burn him alive, he had never seen anyone so beautiful in all his life. Her hair seemed to defy the laws of oceanic gravity, cascading over her shoulders and well below her breasts. With pale skin and a smattering of freckles across her nose, she swam until they were close enough to touch. 

Despite his blurry vision, he could tell her eyes were the color of the purest seas. So vibrantly turquoise there was no way she was human. Light seemed to radiate from within her turning the golden ring in her eyes into molten flame as she appraised him. Her skin cast a dim light around them, those brilliant eyes scanning the area. 

Something deep within him tugged, like a taut piece of string pulling against his ribs, his heart. This is what he had been looking for. This angel was the reason he was so drawn to the ocean and all that dwelled within. 

“I can’t keep giving you oxygen for long,” she told him, concern furrowing her brow. Rowan opened his mouth to ask if she was an angel, to tell her how beautiful she was and that it felt like he’d been pulled toward her his entire life, but water rushed in and forced all of his words back down his throat. “Don’t try to speak. I don’t have long.” 

Dumbly, he nodded his head. He would do anything she asked of him. 

“You have two options and you must decide quickly.” Her pretty words were rushed like she was the one panicking. “You can die and I can return your body to the surface, or I can save you. But if I save you, you’ll be like me. And you will dwell here forever.” 

He was already dead. There was no other explanation. But he cocked his head slightly in a silent question. What did she mean like her?

Thus far in their interaction he hadn’t been able to pull his eyes from her perfect face. His eyes had dipped down to her neck, but no further than that. Something in his mind told him to look, to see, so he took one of their dwindling moments to fully take her in. If he wasn’t dead, he probably would have been surprised. Perhaps he would have yelped and tried to get away, or maybe his brain would have made something up to make him believe what he was seeing. 

Her hair seemed to move from her neck, coiling around to the other side to display what could only be gills just behind her delicately pointed ear. Some sort of shining fabric was wrapped around her breasts. Like her eyes, it was a stunning shade of turquoise that he was convinced had no name and seemed to be fused to her somehow, like scales. Her body was finely sculpted by the gods, all the way down to her navel. There, her skin reflected bits of gold, and lower she—

Where her legs should be was a vibrant, shimmering gold tail. It looked like golden starlight had been melted and wrapped tightly around her body. The fins of her tail swayed idly in the water like molten ore. Similar to some jellyfish, the edges of the main fin had a slightly ruffled quality to them yet looked like the finest gossamer. He couldn’t be sure with his blurry eyes, but it seemed to have a glimmering effect. At her hips she had fins on each side that looked much like the one where her feet might have been if she was human. She was a mermaid. And she was fucking exquisite. 

“I can save you, or take your body home. What do you wish?” 

The answer seemed obvious. Die and let his friends and colleagues find his body, or live forever in heaven with an angel. One that it felt like he’d been looking for his whole life. Maybe that was the death talking. 

Still, he nodded, gesturing toward her. He wanted to ask how she was going to save him, but the words didn’t leave his mouth. Instead, she smiled, pink lips spreading to reveal surprisingly normal teeth. 

“A kiss,” she whispered, her voice a sultry purr as she leaned closer. “Are you sure?”

Rowan nodded as the airflow through his nose grew weaker. How could he say anything but yes to her? To the creature with the voice of a song his heart had been singing forever. As he took his last inhale of the air she gifted him, his nod grew more eager. 

“This is going to hurt, and I am so sorry.” Before he could process her words,  cool lips were pressed against his. 

Something pulled at his insides, but he couldn’t name the feeling. His lips parted when her tongue brushed his lips and she exhaled what could only be liquid flame into his core. Rowan began to thrash about, lightning striking every nerve ending in his body. Aches rumbled deep in his bones and barreled through every pore, that white-hot pain lancing across his skin, his lips, his eyes. Even his hair seemed to hurt as she burned him from the inside out. The pain was so fierce he couldn’t muster the strength to even attempt to restrain her, to shove her away and make her stop. 

Through the pain his body bowed, back in a tight arch that felt like his spine would splinter into thousands of pieces. Color exploded behind his eyes as whatever fire she breathed into his lungs took root. Paralyzation took over and he couldn’t move, the only solace to the heat being the frigid water surrounding them. 

Rowan might have been screaming to no one and nothing, and she might have been devouring his very soul. Even when the pain became so blinding that consciousness was no longer an option, her poisoned mouth stayed glued to his. 

He had always heard that beautiful things were deadly. It couldn’t be more true about the creature stealing his soul. All he knew was pure agony when the freezing darkness of the ocean swept in, claiming another life to her mysterious depths.

~*~ 

When Aelin awoke she was nestled on a bed of kelp and seagrass. The sickly-white bioluminescence told her enough about where she was without having to really look around: the infirmary. It wasn’t the first time she had woken up here with twinges of pain throughout her body and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. It was, however, the first time she couldn’t place why she was there. 

In true Aedion fashion, he was lounging on a rock with a solemn glare aimed at her. Aelin winced as she sat up and adjusted her weight. One of her fins had been caught beneath her for what felt like entirely took long. She frowned at the wrinkle, at the thing that seemed different about herself that she couldn’t place before looking at her cousin. 

“What the hell happened?”

“You don’t remember?” 

“Not particularly, no. Some grand adventure of mine turned a little sour, I suppose.” They often did much to her family’s eternal dismay. It wasn’t that she went looking for trouble, she just had a penchant for finding it. 

“The submarine? The explosion? The man? Your kiss? Any of that ringing any bells, sweetheart?” Bright memories clanged through her at his words and she started, twisting and turning to find the man from the vessel. 

Her heart both soared and sank at the sight of him several beds over. Considering that he was already finished with his transformation and sleeping soundly, it meant that she, too, had been unconscious for at least two days. Maybe three. 

What a glorious transformation it was, though. Her aching body pushed her through the water to his side, her fingers weaving into the seagrass as she came to a stop. Gills fluttered gently as he breathed, his long silver hair fanned out around his head like a halo. The clothes he had been wearing when she found him were gone. A bronze sculpted chest expanded with every breath and occasionally his eyes and fingers twitched. The tattoo he had as a human remained, but where the ink had once been a flat black, it now flashed with blues and greens beneath the lights. It had expanded to crawl up his neck and feathered along his jaw, the edges of it wrapped around his ears like tiny tentacles. Fascinating. The gauntlet of scales that started at his wrist and crawled up his forearms were of the same coloring as his tale, all vibrant shades of silver, gold, green and bright blue. 

Then there was his tail. While hers was all golden with turquoise throughout, his was primarily her favorite shade of green. About halfway down it faded to a darker emerald with sparkling silver and gold shooting throughout. Aelin’s scales were flatter, more silken to the touch. The ones of his fin were thicker and more defined, similar to how Aedion’s were.  He had very defined boning through his bottoms fins, the webbing between iridescent hues of pine, starlight, and the purest ocean water. In short, he was beautiful, and she was positive she could write an essay about him if she tried. 

“Has he woken up at all?”

“Not yet, but his vitals are steady and healthy. He should wake up soon, though. Probably good that you woke up first.” Aelin nodded in agreement, curling her hands into fists to keep herself from touching him. “Are you going to tell me what the hell happened to make you give him your kiss?” 

“I know what it looks like, and it’s not that,” she blurted, perching on the edge of the man’s bed. It looked like she lured him out of the submarine to seal his fate below the waves. While she had spent the last several months enthralled by him and the work he did, she didn’t kiss him lightly. It wasn’t a simple decision to make, and it was one that few mer ever risked. 

Aedion arched an eyebrow, his fins moving in a way that told her she was impatient. Aelin sighed heavily, running her fingers through permanently silky strands. 

“He got too close to the city. The defenses went off and when I tried to shove them out of the way, it was too late. It rocked the back half to the vessel and sent all the mechanics into a tizzy. He was going to die.” 

“He’s doing work that could kill us all,” Aedion reminded her. It was a harsh truth she wanted to ignore. Something about this man was different from all the others that had ever studied their kingdom. Humans saw it as a cluster of ruins. In reality it was one of the seven thriving kingdoms that dwelled at the bottom of the ocean. A kingdom that she was the princess of. 

While many oceanographers tried, and failed, to get too close to document the ruins, this man had always made his team stay far enough back that no damage would be caused. Even on the night that the world went to hell, he was a respectable distance away until a current pushed him a little too close. Aelin had been watching all these months, though. The man was incredibly intelligent and cared greatly about the ocean and her creatures. She spent hours watching him while he scanned what he believed he saw, scribbling notes in a little book. Most often he had a golden or onyx-haired companion with him. It was always this one that was most cautious and respectful about the marine life, though. 

The lost Kingdom of Terrasen was only a myth because it had never existed on land to begin with. Legend says a thousand different things about how it wound up on the bottom of the ocean, leading generations of scientists to dive deep below to try and find the forgotten city. Most of the time, the defenses of the kingdom would wipe memories and send people far away. Some of them forgot what they were doing in the water to begin with, some forgot who they were entirely. Their wards were temperamental and it all depended on the heart of the person hunting them. 

For the first time ever, when this man was on board the submarine, they were allowed to see the ruins of what might have been. It confused everyone, her father included. Even the king didn’t have control over what the wards permitted people to see or what knowledge they might walk away with. This man and his team had been chosen for the smallest amount of exposure. The only catch, it seemed, was that they couldn’t nail down exact coordinates and there were days between visits because they got lost. 

The night he appeared entirely alone, however, it was like he knew exactly where to go. Like the magic of the lands were whispering to him, guiding him almost to their doorstep. It was the first time he had ever gotten much too close and it almost cost him his life. That wasn’t entirely his fault, there truly had been a current that moved the ship just enough that it triggered major defense systems. If Aelin hadn’t tried to knock the blast out of the way, he would have been dead before she could intervene. 

She looked back down at his handsome, sleeping face and held in a sigh before looking back at Aedion. “You know that the magic sings to him.”

“Is it the magic, or has it been you?” 

Aelin scowled. Sirens were relatives of the mer, and liked to lure men to tragic deaths. Somewhere in their shared Ashryver bloodline were siren powers. They never really used them. Speaking to this man to save his life was the first time she had ever put the full force of it in her voice, and it had only been to calm him down. 

“You know it wasn’t me,” she said, twisting to look back down at him.

“You gave him your kiss.”

“I gave him the option of death or life, and he chose life. So of course I gave it to him.” A mer’s kiss was as much of a legend as the merfolk themselves. Most of the stories were watered down versions of the truth. None of them were exactly correct, yet they weren’t wholly wrong. 

Many of them claimed you would be given magic of your own or healing powers. Most implied it could be done over and over, and that to take a kiss from a mer was to sell your soul. The last part was kind of true. To take a kiss was to become a mer, but it was a little more complicated than that. 

Each mer only had one true kiss to give. Typically it was given to humans, though some had been known to give it to other creatures of the deep. It was a heavy decision on the mer because of the repercussions. That other life would be immortally bound to theirs, half of any magic the possessed transferring to the other being in the process. The elders said it was because the magic was the only way most could survive the transformation, and after witnessing it with her own eyes, she understood why.

Aelin had always known that it would be painful on both parts. For the man she saved, it seemed to ring true. She had never seen that kind of blind terror on anyone’s face, had never been able to feel such raw, visceral pain coming from another being as clearly as if it were her own. The few mer that she knew were Made had once said it was like having every part of you ripped out and made new, but it depended on what magic the other possessed. Among a few smaller healing gifts, Aelin had liquid flame that nobody could really explain. It had to have been agony. 

For her, she felt parts of herself she didn’t know existed splintering apart. The tangible feeling of her magic being torn from her body was painful enough, and she wouldn’t have been able to pull away from him if she tried. Her bones still ached like she’d been slammed into the sandy floor over and over. Maybe she had. At some point she lost consciousness and then woke up in the infirmary with her glaring cousin at her side. 

And then there was that other thing she had felt. Like a harp string between their bodies shining golden in the dark, plucking a song she swore she had heard her entire existence. Most merfolk didn’t risk giving their kiss away. The costs were simply too high for them unless they found their true mate. Looking down at the handsome face beside her, feeling that vibrant bond between them, she couldn’t help but wonder if the wards had been so forgiving of the man because his heart sang their princess’s song. 

“Aedion, I think…” Words were tangled in knots that she couldn’t speak.

“I know. We all knew. Look at his tail and yours.” Aelin swished her lower fin up, gasping at the brilliant shades of green that shimmered in the bioluminescence of the infirmary. Where her tail used to be just gold and blue like her eyes, green was now infused effortlessly. Near her bottom tail, the gold speckled then blended into turquoise. Now green made the fade all the more seamless and complete. The delicate webbing that layered upon itself in a ruffled-like display had vibrant bands of green melted effortlessly with her natural coloring. As fuzzy as her mind had been when she woke, it was insane to think she had missed the green and silver scales speckled through what had once been solid gold. Even the fins at her hips and her forearms matched the lower one. 

When she looked back down at his tail she felt silly for not seeing it before. Those blue hues were exactly the color of her eyes, of her scales and webbing. Even the gold was identical to hers and that was rare. Not even Aedion’s or her parent’s shades of gold were a perfect match. 

The sleeping man was her mate. It was wholly undeniable. 

Hours passed, her mother and father coming to check on her not long after her revelation. Neither were angry with her, though she wouldn’t have blamed them if they were. Both were just relieved that she was okay and still breathing, and promised they would figure out the next steps together. 

“Let us know when your prince wakes,” her mother said, a knowing look twinkling in her eyes. Prince. Because he was now a prince of the most powerful kingdom in the ocean. Gods above. 

Aelin stayed perched on his bedside, tail swishing anxiously while she waited for him to rouse from sleep. She had just finished a seaweed snack when she heard a deep inhale beside her. When she looked over, she was gazing into bewildered but bright green eyes. 

“Hello,” she said, pushing off the bed to give him his space. Hints of fear were speckled in his eyes, the smell of his heart rate spiking beneath his skin heady in its own way. Her fins swayed idly to keep her in place, the ribbon-like tendrils at her hips reaching for him. It was almost like her magic and her body recognized him as belonging to her. 

The man was quiet, bleary eyes blinking up at her. One of his hands waved in front of his face as though realizing he was underwater, breathing, and alive. Wonder and amazement crossed over his features before he looked back at her. 

“Am I dead?” His voice was prettier without machinery warping his words. Aelin bit down on her lip and glanced away, trying to bite back a smile. 

“No. You are quite alive, but not the same as you were. Are you in pain?” Those green eyes didn’t stray from her face as if he couldn’t look away. 

“I’m sore.” Aelin nodded, parting her lips to respond when he asked, “Where am I?”

“In one of the infirmary towers of the palace.”

“Underwater?” Bewildered, his eyes flew around the room. He probably expected ruins, and was instead greeted by pristine walls made of seashells and rows of beds. Beyond the doorway behind them was an extensive supply of medicinal plants and herbs. 

“We were never lost, just never wanted to be found. You are the first human to ever see it as ruins. I’m afraid that your research won’t reflect that. The magic only seemed to like you and I can’t imagine your colleagues will remember what they saw down here.” Aelin’s smile was sad and her heart ached for what he lost. From his human life to the career and research that he seemed to love so much.

“I think I died. And that you might be an angel of death,” he said slowly, the memories seeping from his mind down that new bond they shared. Aelin could feel his fear of her, even as she shook her head.

“I know it felt like I was trying to kill you, but believe me when I say it was the only way to save you. My powers.. I have great strengths, but I also have weaknesses. My healing magic is few and far between and I only have so much to give. I wouldn’t have been able to sustain your oxygen levels for the ascent despite how fast I can swim. You would have been dead before we broke the surface.” She hated the dread on his face. Hated how much he wanted to believe none of this was true. Still, he hadn’t looked away from her to see what he had become. Aelin wondered if he could feel it, if he knew, or if he still felt the phantom of his human limbs. 

“Are you an angel?” His eyes dipped to her throat then back to her face. The Adam’s apple in his throat bobbed and she wondered if it was the gills that got that reaction from him. 

“I think you know what I am,” she said, swishing her tail hard enough that he had to view it in all its glory, not just out of his periphery. “Just like I think you know what you now are.”

His eyes were roving over every scale, every shimmering, shiny inch of her body. She held still while he drank every piece of her in, his mouth parted in surprise. One hard swallow later and he was gaping down at his lower half like he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing. 

Some mer chose to take this part away after the kiss. Truthfully, she hadn’t thought about it too much, but was now wishing that she had. So many emotions were flying across his face entirely unfiltered, so quickly she couldn’t make sense of them all. 

“What’s your name?” Her hands toyed with the ends of her hair just to have something to do. 

“I— Rowan. Rowan Whitethorn.” His eyes darted to her body and back to his. 

“Rowan,” she whispered, two syllables turning over sweetly in her mouth. “My name is Aelin. I’m the princess of what you call the Lost Kingdom of Terrasen.”

“Bullshit,” he blurted, shooting upright and looking around the room. His hands were braced on the bed, the kelp and seagrass trapped beneath his fingers. 

“When you’re feeling better I’ll show you everything. Anything you want to see or do, it’s yours. But I would rather wait until the residual pain has faded because swimming long distances—”

“What did you do to me?” 

“I saved your life the only way that I could. I told you it would make you like me.” She hated that her tears, thicker than water and shining in her eyes like oyster shells, were burning her eyes. Soon they would be falling down her cheeks like lost pearls. 

“I thought I was dead,” he argued, the beautiful lines of his face hard and unforgiving. 

“You would have been if I didn’t shield your human body from the pressure, the cold, and your submarine exploding into pieces,” she fought back, hands in fists and voice on edge. Aelin was known for having quite the temper when the right buttons were pushed.

“Maybe you should have let me die. Everything I loved is above the surface.” It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. It felt like the spindly thorns of a lionfish pricking venom into her skin. Her jaw clenched, sharper teeth sliding out from her gums. The sharp tang of blood filled her mouth as she bit the tip of her tongue. They were a defense mechanism, sometimes used for certain meals, but in moments like this she had little control over their appearance. Her body and magic thought she was in danger so they were giving her the tools to protect herself. 

“I gave you the choice. It was your choice. I—” Aelin turned and fixed her eyes on one of the bioluminescent lanterns on the wall. She didn’t need him seeing those shark-like teeth and becoming more fearful than he already was. “Do you want me to take it away?”

“What?” 

“The memory, the pain, all of it. I can take it away. But I want that to be your choice. You can hate me if you wish, or I can take it away and you won’t remember your life before.”

Technically he could do it himself, too, but informing him that he now had different kinds of magic flowing through his veins right now didn’t seem like the best idea. Rowan was quiet, fingers tracing over his brand new scales where his knees used to be. Aelin keenly watched him out of the corner of her eye until those teeth sunk back into her gums and she felt his eyes turn back on her.

“No,” he finally said. “No, I don’t want to forget.”

“I know there is going to be a lot of adjustment for you. I want to make it as easy as possible. Your rooms will be next to mine and I’m at your disposal. Should you need me, just call for me and I’ll come. For now, I’m going to find something to eat for the both of us. If you’ll excuse me.” Before he could even open his mouth to object, she used a blast of her power to propel her through the open archway that led into the hall.

While she was going to find him food, those tears were getting a little too close to falling from the tension. It had been a long few days, an even longer few hours of being awake. Not only was she feeling all of her own emotions, but his were thrown into the mix, too. A moment to breathe in the salty water would be enough to ground her. 

Her pace only slowed when she was far enough away that it felt safe to sink onto the sandy floor and cry until the frustration began to drift away on a slow current. 

@fancysludgeshoelamp @kritical24 @readandlisten @icantfindmychashma @westofmoon @helwanderer @latenighthazymusings @lululululululuop @rowanaelinn @drywhiskers @constant-disappointment-and-gay @throneofus7 @princess-rumi-blog1 @the-regal-warrior @holdthefrickup @baby-babayaga @althelkingshorses @empress-ofbloodshed-writing @earthtolinds @lunadorned @adrianaslv @lunarwitch25 @superspiritfestivall @larisssss @renxzs  @1islessthan3books @darknessofoceans @autumnbabylon @backtobl4ck @aelinchocolatelover @besiber24 @s-uppertime @livingmylifeforme @tothestarsandwhateverend @kritical24 @sleeping-and-books @carranam-mates @fireheart-violet @aelinchocolatelover   @basicbittywitty  @goddess-aelin @shyvioletcat @punkassbookjockey26

[mangocoal]

Random shitposts and edits I've made recently based on conversations I've had online or just silly ideas that came to my head. Disclaimer: I don't actually hate Mai. I think she's alright, this was just for the sake of a joke.

[nqn]

just a little sketchy of my guys..

[writerobscura]

From Facebook:

So, I'm just chillin' in the dragon pit, mindin' my own biz, when I hear those Targaryen freaks singin' in High Valyrian. I'm thinkin', 'What's all the hubbub, bub?' So, I roll up to the scene and see this white dude, lookin' like a reject from a Renaissance faire, tellin' me to serve him? Get the fuck outta here!

"I'm an African American dragon, for cryin' out loud! I'm offended, I'm outraged, I'm... well, I'm a dragon, so I'm already fiery, but you get the point. This guy's got the nerve to stand in front of me, proud as a peacock, and tell me to bend the knee? Please.

"And Rhaenyra, my queen, she's just standin' there, lookin' all regal and whatnot. I'm thinkin', 'Girl, what's the deal? You know I got your back, but this dude?' I mean, we're in the middle of a war, Vhagar's out here snackin' on dragons like they're potato chips... and this guy's got the balls to tell me to serve him?

"So, I'm thinkin', 'Fine, I'll play along.' I lean over, and this motherfucker's got the nerve to say some racist shit? Oh, hell no! I showed him who's boss. I torched him like a marshmallow at a campfire. Felt bad about doin' it in front of the queen, but that dude had it comin'!

So, later on that day, I'm feelin' a little guilty, right? Queen Rhaenyra's at war, and I'm just chillin' like a villain. But let me tell you, as a black dragon, I'm not tryin' to be no hero. I'm tryin' to stay alive, keep my scales shiny, and my wings flappin'... and I'm thinkin', 'Damn, I just burned some white dude to a crisp, that's gonna leave a mark.'

"But I'm feelin' bad, because I know Rhaenyra needs my help, and I'm not scared of war, but I'm cautious, you know what I mean? I'm a black dragon, and this is a dragon war, so I can't just sit this one out. If I don't choose a side, the other dragons are gonna be like, 'What's wrong, dragon? You scared?' or 'You a coward or somethin'?' No, I need to choose a side, and I need a rider who's got some sense.

"So, I'm flyin' around, lookin' for my perfect match, and I see this black dude with dreadlocks, and I'm like, 'Oh yeah, I can smell the Valyrian and Targaryen blood in him!' So I fly down, and this guy's runnin' faster than a dude who owes child support! I'm like, 'Yeah, you're fast, you don't wanna die, that's good enough for me! You're hired, pal!'

"I pin him up against the wall and say, 'Hey, pal, you're either gonna die right here or be my dragon rider!' And let me tell you, he was terrified. I could smell the shit in his pants! But that's why I chose him, because he knows when to get the hell outta there! I don't want no hero, I want someone who's gonna be like me, a little scared, a little smart, and a little resourceful.

[a-libra-writes]

i’m so happy your requests are open again omg!! i think i’ve read pretty much everything you’ve ever written on this blog sdjfgifakskfk

i’m asking for any type of romantic headcanons involving brandon stark. like, a marriage between him and a lady from the stormlands, family/kids hcs, jealousy hcs or literally anything you want. i’ll literally read anything you write <3 if you don’t have the muse for this, that’s completely okay too !!

Oh, my cup runneth over with choices! Hmmm .... for now ill do a little bit of everything? Mostly relationship and domestic HC's 🤔

To start with! When it comes to an arranged marriage, he's initially huffy about it ... until he realizes she's pretty and interesting and whoops he's like a boy trying to impress her before the wedding. Lyanna especially teases the hell out of him for this change of heart. Ironically a lady whose more closed-off, shy or nervous will get a much gentler side to him, whereas one whose more outgoing or friendly will get his full gregarious self. He isn't really aware of it, but a lot of this trying so hard is because he'd like her to be comfortable and happy in Winterfell. Brandon's parents were happily married, and if he really sat with himself about it, he'd want his relationship to be the same - but he knows that's a pipe dream in Westeros, so trying to start off on the right foot with his new bride is important to him.

Now, if this was someone he was familiar with for a while, like a lady whose also a Northerner, Brandon is much less anxious. If anything, he's probably more boisterous and himself because he feels more comfortable. He "gets" Northern girls, and he gets you. You're more familiar and therefore he's less nervous about "messing up".

And the thing is, Brandon can become very attached with the right lady. Even if she doesn't fully feel the same yet, he's finding himself wanting to do things for her. He wants to be lordly and gallant and all those things he used to make fun of in the songs. He wants to get flowers delivered to her (isn't that what ladies like?) and help her up on her horse (he's pretty sure she rides ...?) and carry her over the snow and mud (though, the Winterfell yard is well kept, so ...). Alright, maybe that doesn't pan out, but he can still impress her with his hunting and swordsmanship and show her all over Winterfell. The Stark siblings are having a field day with all this and his father is just happy he's too busy to sleep around.

There's also the matter of jealousy, and it's something that shows up early. It's a childish sort of jealousy at first, especially if his lady is lovely and not from the North, therefore many lords want to see her and speak with her during feasts. He wants to interrupt them and take her away, and if he's drinking he's only more obvious about it. It's gotten some of the court to whisper, look how taken the wolf lordling is with his bride. He just frowns and sulks if you, his father or Lyanna scold him about how boyish it is.

(Now, if there was a serious breach of etiquette, like a lord taking too many liberties during a feast or Brandon was feeling some fierce insecurity ... Yeah, the dueling swords are coming out, if he doesn't just wring the man's neck with his bare hands. In the North, you fuck around and find out).

He's the sort of person who really needs to be in love with their spouse, or at least fond of them, even if he knows that's childish to expect. He'd start to become lonely and listless otherwise, his eye prone to wandering to other women, wondering why his house isn't like the warm and happy family he was raised in. He'll always love any children, though he's not always the most attentive father. Twins? Oh, he won't tell them apart until they're ten. His daughter wants a sword? Sure, sure, let her have steel, that's what he practiced on. A child wants to ride? Well, why not come up on the warhorse with him, no need to start with a pony - you get the picture.

Now if he is in love with his spouse, it's utterly obvious, just like his early infatuation and jealousy was. He'll trust her completely and be grateful to her for many things, not just raising children and helping him with the more infuriating parts of running the house, like numbers and logistics for guests. He doesn't like leaving his wife for a long period of time, even if his brothers are there to protect her. He'll give her a tight, long embrace before leaving and takes her in his arms once he's back. He always wants to kiss and touch, even in inappropriate places (old servants warn the new people about which rooms and halls to avoid). It's not hard at all for the new Lady Stark to get Brandon wrapped around her finger.

[ahopefulsoul]

We Do Not Sow 🏴‍☠️💛

11/12

[hikaaa-bi]

probably a hot take but i don't really like ezran. i don't dislike him, he just feels like such a 2d character. maybe it's his voice acting (i'm sorry but it's so.. soulless?) or maybe it's the fact that his personality has no depth. like i get it, he's a child but i've seen a lot more interesting characters who were around the same age as him.

[shallyne]

Well, anyways, I was bored and made a list with book characters that I like from A to Z (couldn't come up with something for Q)

Book Characters List

A

Aemmory Percyval Taxus

Aelin Galathynius

Andarna

Amara Maroni

Alpha Villanova

Abraxos

Annaleigh Thaumas

Aedion Ashryver

Alexis

Asterin Blackbeak

Aaron Warner

Apollion

Aidas

Ansel of Briarcliff

Ash

Addie LaRue

Avery Kylie Grambs

Ash Maddox

Alex Volkov

Ava Chen

Alessandra Davenport

B

Bryce Quinlan

Bryaxis

Bone Carver

Brie

Barney Fitz-Amobi

Bel Price

Bridget Van Ascheberg

C

Corvina Clemm

Cassius

Cardan Greenbriar

Chloe Green

Camila Dunne

Cinnamon Hotpepper

Cormac Donnall

Catherine Pinkerton

Cara Ward

Cal

Carter Price

Chrstian Harper

D

Danika Fendyr

Dante Maroni

Donatella Dragna

Declan Emmett

Dorian Havilliard

Dante Russo

Dominic Davenport

E

Elide Lochan

Evangeline Fox

Emilia DiCarlo

Envy

Evelyn Hugo

Ember Quinlan

Elspeth Spindle

Evangelina Sage

Elm Rowan

F

Feyre Archeron

Fenrys Moonbeam

Fallon

Felix

Fleetfoot

G

Gavriel

H

Hunt Athalar

Helion

Hannah Rooney

I

Imogen

Iris Winnow

Ione Hawthorne

Isabella Valencia

J

Jacks

Juliette Ferrars

Jude Duarte

Jesiba Roga

Jurian

Jest

Jack Brunswick

Jespyr Yew

Josh Chen

Jules Ambrose

K

Kenji Kishimoto

Kaltain Rompier

Kai Young

L

Lilith

Lyla

Lorcan Salvaterre

Lidia Cervos

Legend

Lysandra

Lehabah

Liam Mairi

Luc

Luna Caine

Libby

M

Manon Blackbeak

Morrigan

Morana Vitalio

Meghan Chase

N

Nesryn Faliq

Nazeera Ibrahim

Nash Hawthorne

Naomi Ward

Nightmare

O

Oraya

Oak Greenbriar

P

Pippa Fitz-Amobi

Purrcival

Q

R

Rhysand

Raihn

Ruhn Danaan

Rogan

Rowan Whitethorn

Randall Silago

Rhiannon Matthias

Razor

Ravi Singh

Ravyn Yew

Renelm Yew

Roman Kitt

Rachel Price

Rhys Larsen

S

Shara Wheeler

Scarlett Dragna

Stryga

Suriel

Sartaq

Syrinx

Sgaeyl

Sal Singh

Stanley Forbes

Stella Alonso

Sloane Kensington

T

Tristan Caine

Tristan Flynn

Thea Delion

Tairn

Thimble

Tandri

Trystan Maverine

U

Usha

V

Violet Sorrengail

Vale

Vincent

Vittoria di Carlo

Viv

Vivian Lau-Russo

W

Wrath

Wren

X

Xaden Riorson

Y

Yrene Towers

Z

Zephyr Villanova

[acourtofquestions]

Change my entire world/opinion on a character while hitting my soul/breaking my heart in ONE line:

“Cousin — that had been his most beloved title.”

[lawonderlandwriter]

I was just thinking how absolutely annoying, unfair, and ridiculous it is that Sophie Turner, the annoying brat, got to keep that hideous disgusting throne while the set didn’t let Emilia keep any of her her wigs or anything really or let Kit keep Longclaw. The GOT set was clearly a biased and sometimes cruel one

Took me a moment to remember what Sophie's wrap gift was but yes, the direwolf throne in the North at the end, that was indeed her wrap gift. Kit also kept the statue of himself that wasn't used in the actual show but was used for one of the promo commercials - which was just the dumbest waste of money ever considering it meant nothing in the actual season.

On one hand, I do understand Kit wanting to keep the sword. If any one person should own it, it definitely should be him. But as someone who also lives in Hollywood, I feel like it's also something that should be kept in a museum - or sent around to different exhibits on the show so people can visit it, because it is so iconic. But instead of that ugly statue, they could have given Kit one of his costumes - there were so many variations on the show of relatively the same looks, they could have easily given him one of the versions of his Night's Watch costumes or one of the ones he wore as King in the North.

And Emilia has never talked about what her wrap gift has been or if she ever got one. We know they gave Rose Leslie Ygritte's bow as her wrap gift. Aiden Gillen was given one of Littlefinger's broaches. So yeah, the show could have easily given Emilia one of Dany's rings, the dragon sash, one of the egg props from the first season, any number of things.

Everyone who worked on that show was biased against Dany. Miguel Sapochnik, Michele Clapton, the show runners. The only person who ever gave Dany exactly what she was due and loved her the way her character deserved to be loved by someone making the show was Ramin Djawadi, and for that, he will always be a legend.