#and the fact that she was looking right at Bran when she said it

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

How is it that Game of Thrones of all shows has one of the best mottos about disability that I've ever heard:

"Some people will always need help. Doesn't mean they aren't worth helping."

[lavalais76]

Jon & Sansa | Winter in my Heart

I am simply obsessed with these 2. All the Metas and Fan Fiction from you beautiful kindred souls makes me feel so alive! I appreciate each and everyone of you. @istumpysk and @esther-dot @starwarsprincess1986 @sherlokiness @stormcloudrising , you guys give me LIFE with your Metas.

I'm more of a book fan because the show did these characters no justice. We all know WHY. I hope you guys are ok with me posting all these sappy videos. Im sort of new to Tumblr, and I love it here. When I heard about the Kit and Sofie movie set at the time of "war of the roses" I became even more obsessed with Jon and Sansa.

They are obviously giving it away with this movie and trying to get the "Anti's" to get comfortable with the fact that these 2 are inevitable. Before Sansa appeared at Castle Black and even before the show begin I always wondered what the deal was with these 2. It just didn't make any sense, or as someone else put it: "Jon and Sansa are the LOUDEST SILENCE". I ALWAYS had that feeling that the girl in grey would be her. There isn't a single doubt in my mind.

I think something horrible will go down in the Vale and the Blackfish will help Sansa some sort of way to get to Jon. I read many Metas where they say Jon will come back from the dead a mindless beast, and he will have no POV. That's just impossible. Our main character/HERO a mute stuck in a wolf.

First of all I don't think Jon is dead AT ALL. I believe he is hanging on by a string due to blood loss and shock and possibly in a coma like Bran was at the beginning of the series. He will warg Ghost and find out many things about himself through Ghost while his friends (the wildings) nurse him back to life. Though VAL is not one of my favorite characters, some say she is a healer. That could be good for Jon.

Melsandra will probably burn Shrinee anyway because she thinks Stannis is dead. I also think Jon was drugged before the stabbings. The way he spoke of clumsily trying to retrieve LongClaw, and he just gave me a weird vibe. I DO NOT TRUST Satin guys. I know everyone loves him but if Jon were drugged, Satin always provided the drinks. Maybe I'm reaching too far, but that's just my gut feeling. Satin is Judas.

Cerci Lannister had plans on taking Jon off the Chess Board as well, so there is no telling if she orchestrated the whole thing or not. Whatever happens, it's gonna be real UGLY when Jon wakes up. Jon Snow as we knew him is definitely DEAD and died in the snow. The real BEAST is what we will have left of Jon. He will make the Hound look like a little poodle dog.

I do also believe he will be in those woods as Ghost while Sansa is being chased by Ramsay's hounds. He will definitely kill them all including whomever is with the dogs. There was a passage in the books if I remember correctly how when Ghost was a pup, and he was eating. A dog approached to try and steal his prize. Jon said the Dog was much bigger than Ghost, but all Ghost had to do was look at her and she ran away. Ghost got right back to his prize.

I've always wondered if that was a foreshadowing for Ghost fighting the hounds. Another thing, WHERE do Ghost go when Jon wonders of his whereabouts? Well, I'm almost done here Jonsa family. I hope I'm not boring you guys to death with this long book of a post I am writing.

I DO believe Sansa is the Girl in Grey and I'll die by that. I also think that after Ghost!Jon saves her, Brianne and Jamie or Brianne and Company will get her to Castle Black. The dying horse in my opinion is not a real Horse. It could be a person. We've already had the real dying horse with Alyas. Sansa doesn't have to be dressed in Grey either because so many other things links her to Grey.

I remember she had a green cloak in Kings Landing that belonged to the hound and if I'm not mistaken she also got on the boat with LF with that cloak on. Where is it? I do not know.

Anyway, Sansa will arrive at Castle Black shortly after Jon wakes up from his coma (refuse to believe he died and actual death) People will SAY he rose from the dead as they did Sansa when she left Kings Landing. It will be a myth, but people will believe it. Jon will NOT be the same. I believe he will have all of his memories which preserved in Ghost but he will become "THE BEAST" After he has "killed the boy." He would have tapped into his powers and possibly converse with Bran and Bloodraven.

Jon will probably forget what happened in the woods and in his wolf dreams but he will have the shock of his life to see Sansa Stark of ALL people come through those gates. She's come to the end of the world to seek HIM out. He will realize it was the wrong sister he almost got murdered behind.

Everyone will fear him at Castle Black. He will be a cold blooded killer with no humanity left until she walks through those gates. It's a craving Jon had (to see her again) but he kept that to himself. We know this from Ygritte, Alays and Val. He was looking for Sansa in all these women, and now the real deal stands right before him.

I'm not saying it's going to be an easy journey, but she will be the ONLY ONE to calm the beast. Jon will protect her of course (or steal her) but he will be mean to Sansa at first. He will eventually fall madly in love with her and vice versa. She will sing to him, annoy him, anger him, pacify him and Jon won't know what hit him.

They will fall in love because of what they both endured. Jon will be OVER protective of Sansa in the books, possibly locking her up in a tower like Stannis has Val, but this time there is a real princess in the tower that Jon WANTS to steal. I know I've reached my limits here. I am sorry for rambling or any errors, I'm just so happy to have ran across you fine people. If I didn't tag someone is because I don't remember the names and I'm still fairly new on Tumblr.

You guys are the BEST!

[yanderu-deredere]

line.

★ you and your friends accept the gracious invite a couple of strangers extended to you. they didn't seem all that bad and, in fact, you get a bit attached to them! they're really kind after all...

a/n: here's the second part. i'm writing this before ive published the first part so here's crossing my fingers, hoping that first part gets good reviews loool this should be published the day after so! hope i didnt make yall wait to long!

like i warned in the first part, these yanderes are inspired by slashers. the first part didn't include any violence but this part might. i'll include in the warnings if it does. please heed the warnings! thank you!

part one (hook.) ★ part two (here) ★ part three (sinker.) ★ part four (?)

pairing: casimir fiala x reader x emmaline fiala word count: 2393 warning: gender neutral reader, reader is attracted to males and females, readers friends suck even more, reader is kind of pervy in this one, final ship is poly

When the entire group finally entered the couple's house, you were met with a hallway entrance. Unlike the outside of the house, the inside was nice and well-maintained.

"Pretty sweet house." Dirk wolf whistled as he walked ahead and looked around, his bag slung behind his shoulder. Chloe giggled at him as if what he said was a joke. You honestly didn't understand.

Of course, Bran had to put his two cents. "Pretty sweet for a glorified security guard."

"Shut up, don't be rude." You couldn't help but defend the couple a little, a frown marring your lips as you watched Emm look curiously at her husband, only for Casimir to roll his eyes as if to say 'Don't get me started'

Before you could venture further into the home, you felt a rough shove from beside you. You tried your hardest not to fall over; not an easy feat considering the hefty pack on your back.

When you glanced at who shoved you, you weren't exactly surprised to see it was Kathy. She mouthed at you to shut up, probably annoyed that you were telling her boyfriend off.

She had a weird notion that only she was allowed to do that.

Rolling your eyes, you just gave a curt nod and went on your way, trying to stick close to the couple and avoiding your friends who were oddly striking nerve after nerve with you today.

You weren't surprised. After years of the four of them keeping you around to use you for their own bullshit, you had gotten tired of it and tried to distance yourself.

Why did you even let them talk you into going on this trip?

Maybe a part of you still felt some sort of friendship for them. After all, even though they'd been terrible to you, you were good friends with them for a long time and that wasn't something easily forgotten.

Call it stupidity or some misplaced sense of loyalty.

"Make yourselves at home." Emm gestured to everything before pointing to the stairs directly at the end of the hallway "The third floor's off limits 'cus that's where we're at but everything is on the second floor."

"There is two guest bedrooms there and a shared bathroom." Casimir elaborated as he hung up his rather drenched lab coat "Usually, we keep it for the in laws and close family. They stayed recently so the rooms should still be good and clean."

"Why would anyone want to visit here..." You spotted Chloe running her fingers along a table by the door with a bunch of knickknacks on it, frown evident on her face

Emm tossed her motorcycle keys Chloe's direction and she had to snatch her hand back just to prevent it from smacking the back of her hand.

"We're not allowed a lot'a vacation days so family have to visit us here if the wan'a spend time with us." Emm easily explained, shrugging as she hung up her motorcycle helmet before just unceremoniously placing her elbow pads right next to her keys.

You ignored how much that didn't make sense and opted to look into one of the door ways branching off of the hall way.

Dirk was right, though. Their house was pretty impressive for an abandoned little town.

It reminded you of those historical movies set in rural Georgia or something; a lot of wood furniture, with the open wooden beams in the ceiling, and a lot of family heirlooms cluttered everywhere.

The room you specifically looked into was a living room, complete with a fire place and a creepy looking mirror hung above it.

The couches at least looked nice but they also looked ancient, with the floral patterns looking like they came from someone's Grandma's linen closet.

"No windows?" Kathy walked up next to you, taking every step like she was about to walk into a trap.

You would've rolled your eyes if you didn't think she would've shoved you into the rather nice coffee table as retaliation.

You gestured to a rather large window to your left but she just scoffed at you "That's a door."

You walked closer to observe and were surprised to be proven correct. It was a door. You could see something like a garden through the gauzy curtain covering the panes of glass.

"The lack of windows make it a little gloomy in here." Bran appeared right next to Kathy, arms crossed as he pretended to shiver from how scared he was of the bad lighting.

Kathy just laughed but you shook your head.

As you turned around, the three of you were suddenly blinded with light and, though you couldn't say the same for Bran and Kathy, you definitely jumped a little.

At the entrance of the living room, Casimir stood, his hand on a light switch and a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I am in charge of dinner, as I am every night. I was going to cook a rather nice scotch fillet for me and my wife. I have some extras I was going to save for later this week." He explained, drawing his hand away from the way to tuck it behind his back "Any allergies? And how would you like your steak cooked?"

"No allergies in the group." All the anxiety in Kathy's body seemed to evaporate at the thought of getting free dinner "And I love having my steak done medium well, thank you!"

"Well done for me." Bran grumbled out, not happy his girlfriend was so easily won over by a steak dinner

You, on the other hand, felt a little nervous accepting such a wonderful dinner invitation so you moved forward, dropping your bag next to the couch "Are you sure it's okay for you to cook us dinner?"

"It's late, the rain is predicted to keep up all night. I most certainly won't let my wife drive in the middle of the night even if it does stop." Casimir held out a hand as if to stop you from whatever you wanted to say "Let us at least do you this one favor. We don't get a lot of visitors after all and we're paid well enough by our jobs to afford feeding a bunch of strays."

When he said that, you saw his green eyes flicker for a second to Bran and there was some sort of irritation there but then it flickered back to you and all you could see was sweet politeness.

So, of course, you relented but not without compromise "At least let me help you prepare dinner."

Casimir seemed surprised by that but then he grinned "If you insist."

Then, his hand, which he had held up a second ago, raised even further to tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers seemingly lingering for a bit longer "How about I get the ingredients ready and you change out of those sopping wet clothes?"

"It won't do either of us good if you get a cold now would it?" He added and you felt your ears get a little hot with embarrassment.

He was right, you were getting a bit ahead of yourself. You gave a quick nod. Scurrying back, you picked up your bag and made a move to go upstairs.

As you passed by Bran, he shouldered you a little and you heard him whisper to you, "Don't flirt with him, you fucking freak."

You felt your face fall but you quickly tried to compose yourself.

You honestly should've been used to it by now. Bran always decided to knock you down a peg at random moments like that but, still, it always took you off your guard.

Before you could get up the stairs, a gentle hand cupped your elbow and you turned, curious to see who stopped you.

"Hi, sorry, darl', just wanted to say that you'll have to stay in a spare bed on the third floor." Emm smiled gently at you, the picture of a kind hostess "I hope you don't mind."

You quickly shook your head, trying to calm the heat on your face and ears "Of course not! You're already helping us so much after all the trouble we've put you guys through!"

Then, you leaned close, pretending as if you were going to tell her some terrible secret "Don't tell Bran I said this but it was honestly stupid of him to try and go through here as a short cut to Lovelock."

When you pulled back, there was an expression on Emm's face that you couldn't exactly decipher. Before you couldn't really think about it though, it was gone and she was back to smiling at you.

"Yeah, there's been millions'a people like him for sure." Emm nodded, hand gliding up to your forearm as she guided you up the stairs, probably to where your room was "I always think the fine's too big for'em to try but there's always anoth'r dum'ass every week."

You giggled a little at her words but your brain felt a little dizzy at the feel of her hand around your arm, the way her palm almost wrapped entirely around it, how firm her grip was on you.

She was one tough looking lady.

"Your other two friends are a'ready in their rooms, d'now if you were lookin' for them." She informed you as the two of you passed that landing before embarking on the second set of stairs to the third floor.

"How come you guys have such a huge house?" You couldn't help but wonder, the curiosity getting the best of you.

"This used't be the house of some big shot at the Pharma back in the day, before the factory closed. Someone with a big family, I reckon." She shrugged as the two of you got to the final step on the stairs "The Pharma gave us reign to the entire village and we were movin' in with my brother and sister at the time so we jus' picked the biggest house. The oth'r choices were way smaller or just straight up apartments."

You nodded before feeling a little surprised to see that the third floor looked like a second living room. There was another set of couches, a coffee table, TV set and a door leading to what you presumed was the master bedroom.

"I hope a pullout is okay with you?" Emm smiled apologetically at you "It's really comfortable, I promise."

Without thinking much about it, you took her hand into yours and gave it a little shake "It's really fine, truly. Like I said before, you've been more than hospitable to us. This is so much more than what we should expect."

Her smile grew wide and she swooped in, giving you a tight hug "I'm so glad you think so! You'd fit right in here, y'know."

You laughed, hugging her back. You didn't know exactly what she meant by that but she was just so nice and kind that you accepted her words easily.

"Now, I think I heard you say you'd help Cas out with dinner." She pulled away, her hands rubbing up and down your shoulders for a second before she turned you towards the closed door you spotted earlier "Let me show you the bathroom."

"Oh, wait, isn't that--"

"It's fine!" Emm waved off your concerns as she practically dragged you along, opening the door and gesturing to the other door on the far side "That's the bathroom, by the way."

Then she let you go to rifle around her drawers for something.

You couldn't help but look around a little, curious about their master bedroom. It looked like any other bedroom, albeit a little too clean. Big bed in the middle, nightstand on either side, dresser for both him and her. There was another door you assumed was a closet.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing, I was just--" You were about to answer her except, when you turned to look at her, she was in the middle of taking off (or putting on?) her shirt and you panicked, your entire face feeling as hot as a kettle.

You turned around, squeaking out apology after apology as you scrambled into the bathroom, heart beating a mile a minute.

You locked the door and put down your bag, changing as fast as you could while trying to erase the image of Emm changing in your head. Still, you couldn't.

She was a married woman so you felt guilty but that didn't change the fact that she was very beautiful. Her body was built but curvy, pudgy but in a way where you could tell she had muscles underneath, with black and red tattoos swirling all over her tanned skin.

All you could remember was the lace of her black bra cupping her breasts, the way they were too big and seemed to overflow at the top of the cups.

Even her pants hung low, revealing the tops of her matching underwear and the hints of a tattoo on her wide hips.

You wanted to slap yourself.

She was a married woman! And she was being so gracious to you! Why were you lusting over her like some stupid high school kid? You idiot!

You tapped your head a few times as if you could tap the thought right out of your head before continuing with your changing.

When you exited with your bag, she was gone, probably weirded out by your staring. You sighed and just dropped your bag off at the couch right outside their bedroom.

Then, you walked downstairs. You wanted to check on Chloe and Dirk but, from the giggling right outside their room, you rather gouge your eyes out.

So, instead, you headed directly to the kitchen.

Casimir was already there, looking dressed and ready to cook. He had a different button up, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He also had an apron around his waist and his hair was tied in a messy bun high on his head.

There was something both domestic and handsome about the way he was dressed.

"Ah, my dear Igor, you've gotten dressed." He smirked as soon as he spotted you, his hand doing a couple of final flicks to roll up his last sleeve "There's an apron there, on the chair--"

You spotted it quickly and put it on, though you struggled a bit to tie it at the back.

Casimir chuckled a little, all deep and rich, before going behind you and helping you tie it.

"So, if I'm Igor, does that mean you're Dr. Frankenstein?" You tried to keep the silence at bay as he tied your apron and you rolled your sleeves up to your elbows.

He chuckled again "Of course. Though, hopefully, our cooking doesn't end up as convoluted as the Creature."

As he got ready at the kitchen counter, you couldn't help but turn a little meek "Uhm, by the way, did you see where Emm went?"

Casimir didn't spare you a glance as he set out a board and some vegetables out, probably for you to cut or dice "Oh, I think she went out to park her motorcycle? Probably so it doesn't rust in this downpour."

You frowned but took your place beside Casimir who seemed intent on peeling the potatoes as best as he could "When-- When she was uhm showing me the bathroom-- I uhm-- I accidentally-- you know-- I uhm--"

That's when Casimir finally stopped and peeked at you, his green eyes justas intimidating as when you first saw him out on that main road, by the factory.

"I a-accidentally saw her ch-changing." You squeaked, unable to keep your gaze on him

Instead of anger, Casimir suddenly clapped a hand on the back of your neck and pulled you close, that same deep and rumbling chuckle leaving his lips "Is that all? It's fine. If she had a problem with it, you wouldn't be with me, chopping up vegetables."

"O-Oh, okay!"

"She's taken quite a liking to you. I can tell." He continued to peel the potatoes, chucking the peeled ones in a bowl before gesturing to some broccolini and asparagus that needed trimming "Don't worry, if she had a problem with you, she will let you know."

"I'm sure she's told you but you'd be a good fit here, you know."

"Yeah, she said that." You started chopping the bottoms of the asparagus absentmindedly "What does that mean?"

"Just that we both really like you. Your friends take you for granted. You're a really great person." Casimir shrugged before bumping his hip against yours "Have you ever thought of settling here in Lovelock permanently?"

"Oh, I mean, there's not really anything waiting for me back at home other than a college degree." You laughed nervously before shrugging too "I don't know, I think it'd be nice but I'm-- I've never-- I don't know."

You could see Casimir look unsure for a second, like he was panicked and didn't know what to say, before he sighed "Sorry if I said something-- Or-- I'm not good with words or with feelings."

"But you have a place to stay with Emm and I if you ever need it."

You grinned at him, nodding "I really appreciate it! Thank you!"

When you looked up at him, there was a strange expression on his face. KInd of similar to that expression on Emm's face earlier. You chalked it to you just being weird. Instead, you focused on your asparagus, excited about the dinner coming.

[crownedtargaryen]

might i request some modern bran where he's been in love with his best friend the past few years but hasn't said anything because he doesn't want to make things weird in their friend group with meer and jojen? 👀with these staying the staying the night prompts mayhaps?

❝  i know this might sound weird but,  do you wanna stay over?  i guess ‘sleepover’ sounds kind of childish but.  i think it’d be nice.  ❞

and

❝  chivalry is overrated,  get in my bed.  ❞

fruits. - modern!bran, modern!jojen

MASTERLIST pairing: modern!bran & modern!jojen x reader (a/n): i appreciate this request so much thea 🥹🥹 you know how much i love bran 🤍🤍 REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! also he isn’t in a wheelchair in this cause i just think it’d be easier to write a sexual scene where he’s dominant if he can walk CW: jealousy, p in v sex, unprotected sex, jojen is on the phone, slight food play?, degradation mixed with praise (words like slut, whore, all that jazz are kinda used), possessiveness, bran takes some pictures and videos of you while having sex all notes are appreciated. words: 3k tag list: @fairysluna @twizzy123 @hopelesswritergall @howyouloveyourdragon @clairacassidy @ad-astra-again

Years slip from Bran's fingertips, his love for me growing daily.

We'd met when we were around nine, being insufferable ever since. Bran followed me like a hopeless puppy, chasing me as I slipped from his fingertips. I always found someone new and would come to him crying, heartbroken that yet another disgusting person had shattered that loving heart of mine. He held me for years, always being there when I needed him the most. He did struggle with showing his affection toward me, coming off as merely friendly and caring to me, never showing any signs of feelings. I grew hyper-aware of my blossoming affection for Brandon Stark when I reached sixteen but stayed silent due to his stiffness when I brought up romantics. I'd always assumed he was in love with Meer since after she and her brother Jojen had joined your group, he seemed weirdly tense and much quieter than previously. I never wished to press, but some underlying jealousy burrowed within me. Or perhaps, he loved Jojen? It was definitely on the table with how he looked at the boy, and Jojen grinned awkwardly in return.

I'm affectionate, always hugging Jojen and Meer as they flush and laugh, returning the affection. However, Bran seemed uncomfortable with my love since they joined, significantly pushing himself away from my touch since his voice had dropped. It may be a puberty thing; I was still determining. That was until this particular night when I realized I had misread his signals drastically. That he, in fact, craved my affections, but not in a way I so thought.

We walked to Bran's car since he was my ride; Jojen had been riding with Meer since she got her license. I could tell Bran was extra tense today, his breathing staggered, and his cheeks grew pink as he clenched the right strap of his bag. We say nothing, getting inside the vehicle as I toss my bag into the back seat and look over to him, watching as he clumsily shoves the key into the hole and turns it, his left hand stroking over the wheel slowly and then clenching it. The way his calloused fingers traced the material of the wheel, so tender as he then gripped it as his thumb rubbed over it, seemingly soothing it as if it was a person.

That stirred something inside me, more than I wished to admit.

I was brought out of my trance as Bran spoke, looking at me nervously. "Look, I know this might sound weird," he starts, inhaling shakily and avoiding eye contact. "Do you maybe wanna stay over? I guess 'sleepover' sounds childish, but. It'd be nice." In all our years, he's never invited me to sleep at his house, and my parents are always surprised when I come home. They seemed to be waiting for the day I just stayed the night with Bran, given we've known each other for ages, and they trusted him not to do anything inappropriate. Boy, were they wrong. He starts awkwardly apologizing and insisting if I feel uncomfortable, I don't have to come over, but I merely laugh. He stops talking, cheeks red with embarrassment.

"Hey, hey! Breathe," I laugh, raising a brow. "I'm gonna stay the night. Let me text my parents." The tension in the car eases as he drives off to his house, seeming quite ambitious and unreasonably excited about this.

The drive is long and drawn out, the silence in the car prominent. I look at him out of the corner of my eye ad see a bit of sweat rolling down his brow, noting his shuffling as he purses his lips. He pushes up his glasses with the back of his hand, noticing me staring and smiling sweetly at me in return to my gaze. I glance at his phone, and he catches the hint.

"Oh, right. Music," he laughs, stopping at a red light and quickly putting on a tune. Bran was a huge Hozier and Weezer fan, which was weirdly fitting. His voice fits so well with Hozier, but Weezer fits his personality. We'd gotten into countless arguments over if you could consider Weezer music, and he's turned me to his side every time. Though, to each their own. I hear the soft tune, relieved he decided to put on Hozier instead of the latter, Bran murmuring the words as he turns up the radio and continues to drive.

That's when I notice the song playing- Someone New by Hozier- a brow raising. He pats the drum beat on his wheel, nodding to the words and singing quietly. I take in every word, knowing Bran focused on lyrics rather than the rhythm and pacing of his music. This song had to be directed to Meer. I'll need to ask him sometime tonight about his feelings toward her.

We'd pulled up to his house, all his siblings and cousin out, besides Robb, who was home sick then. We walked in and immediately were met with Robb Stark walking out of the kitchen, shirtless with shorts on and a bowl of cereal in his calloused hands. I look up at his face, trying to avoid staring at his chest, lined with faint scars and a tuft of chest hair, his happy trail visible right above the waist of his pants. His eyes scanned me, then Bran. I watch his hand run through his beautiful curls, then scratch his facial hair with a slight smirk.

"Brought your girlfriend?" Robb coos, making my cheeks burn. When I look at Bran, I see a faint warning glare across his eyes. My eyes trail down, widening slightly at the strain between his legs on his pants. I quickly avert my gaze. No fucking way; he was hard as all hell right now. "Don't have too much fun." Robb's remark makes Bran audibly grumble, leaving me mildly offended. What was that for? Did he not find me appealing? I look back to his brother, who is now lazed on the couch and turning on the TV, eyes lidded as he watches and munches on his cereal without worrying about the world around him.

Trying to brush over the remark, I walk to the kitchen and open the fridge, grabbing some strawberries and grapes.

Before I could ask if he wanted anything, Bran grabbed my hand and tugged me to his room, slamming the door and sighing loud, running his hands down his face. "I'm sorry about him; you know how he is," Bran grumbles, making me chuckle as I sit on his bed. "Did he make you uncomfortable?" I notice the worry crossing his face, a sincere smile coming to my lips.

"Nah, not at all. Didn't know I was your girlfriend though, coulda been consoled on that," I tease, watching as Bran rolls his eyes and sits next to me, lying back as he looks at the ceiling.

Hours pass of idle chitchat and playing some board and video games together, but then it comes to a game of truth or dare.

"I dare you," I drag out, smiling at him as I lean in. "To kiss me." Bran's cheeks flush as he swallows hard, glances at my lips, and then back into my eyes. "Don't worry; it can be just a peck."

His kiss catches me off guard, his lips suddenly on mine without warning. It's deeper than I thought it'd be, his hand cupping my cheek as he presses his chest to mine for a moment. As he pulls away, I feel dizzy and breathless.

"Truth or dare," he whispers, lips hovering over mine. I take my lower lip between my teeth, slowly pulling from him and examining his features. "Truth." Bran liked my response, wetting his lips with flushed cheeks.

"You like anyone?" He asks as his brows knitted anxiously. I see a sense of hope in his eyes, making my heart ache.

"Of course I do," I play it cool, laughing weakly and pretending to lack understanding. "Truth or dare?"

"Hit me with a truth," he smiles. I can tell he's happy by my response.

"Do you like Meer?" I blurt out without a second thought, a question I've held in for years. Surprise corrupts his previously playful expression.

"What? Why would I like Meer?" Bran asks, making me feel humiliated at such a question.

"I don't know, you just are constantly with her and always being weirdly flirty. I sometimes feel pushed aside, you know?" I murmur, fiddling with my hands and avoiding looking at him.

I hear him chuckle as he moves his hand to my cheek, palms soft as he makes me look at him. "I thought you liked Jojen; why are you acting all jealous over the possibility of me liking Meer?" he murmurs as I widen my eyes.

"Jojen?! Heck no! I've been in love with you, you idiot!" I rush out the words, realizing what I'd just admitted. My breath hitches; time feels as if it's frozen. Holy shit, I just ruined my friendship; he hates me; this is it.

My thoughts stop when his lips are on mine like before. I whine into his loving action, moving my hands to his hair and inhaling shakily against his lips, his tongue brushing my bottom lip. Our tongues dance in a forbidden tango, saliva mixing as he pulls away much sooner than I wished.

"Let me lock the door," he pants out, pecking my lips as he scrambles. My eyes trail to the fruit resting on the bedside table as I reach over and eat a grape, the juice spurting out and down my chin. I laugh, going to wipe it off but hearing Bran's stern voice. "No, no. Stay still." his tone is calm as he trails over to me, grabbing my chin and licking the juice trailing down my neck. The lick lines my neck, up my chin, and to my lips, where he feverishly kisses me. I stand closer to him, trailing my hands up his shirt and gently clawing at his back as he picks me up and lets me hook my legs around his waist.

"I'm gonna love you right, sweetheart," he murmurs into the kiss, biting my bottom lip tauntingly. "You're fuckin' beautiful." I laugh softly, moving from his lips and raising a brow.

"Well aren't you chivalrous?" I tease, watching as he rolls his eyes and huffs.

"Chivalry is overrated; you're getting in my bed," he demands, tossing me onto the mattress and tugging my shirt over my head, taking in the sight of my upper body as his strained cock twitches in his pants. "Holy hell." slowly, he reaches beneath me, unclasps my bra, slips it away from my torso, and watches as it falls in front of the bedside table. Bran's eyes trail to the fruits with a mischievous grin, looking at me with a pleading gaze. "Can I try something?"

"Just be gentle," I plea, watching as he stalks over to the bedside, slipping off his shirt and tossing it down next to my discarded bra. He grabs strawberries and grapes, setting them next to my torso as he slips off my pants and underwear, pausing momentarily to take in the sight of my glistening cunt, dripping with slickness. He nearly audibly gulps, whimpering quietly as his hand strokes up my thigh and to my cunny, rolling his thumb in circles on my neglected bud. I writhe, closing my eyes and whining his name under my breath. My hips desperately follow his touch, thighs trembling lightly as he moves his other hand to the cut strawberries and traces it down my torso with a slight squeeze. The juice traces my left nipple to my right, down my stomach, and then to my aching lower lips. He pops the fruit into his mouth, eating it as he moves down and licks over my sensitive chest, taking in the taste of my sweet citrusy body wash with the tangy strawberry juice. His licks trail from one nipple to the next, massaging each breast when moving between them as he grinds his clothed cock between my legs, making me shiver in delight yet mild frustration. His licks then move down my stomach and to my cunt where I inhale sharply as he trails his tongue between my soaked folds and to my bud, wrapping his lips over it with a soft whimper as he slips off his pants and abuses the clit with his mouth, tongue wandering slightly to my entrance before moving back up, his fingers prodding my hole. The moment he pushes them in, filling me with his middle and ring finger, I hear my phone buzzing. Lazily, I grab it from my side and look at the person in question, showing Bran, who is looking up between my legs, still tending to my lower piece.

Jojen.

"Answer it," Bran demands, seeing my confusion. "Now." He waits until I accept the call before he pushes his fingers in and out vigorously and multiplies the abuse on my cunt, making me moan loudly into the phone, interrupting Jojen's hello.

"Everything okay?" Jojen asks after a moment of silence. I can't stop panting, trying to swallow it down as Bran smiles against my pussy, continuing his tentative actions to my now-swollen clit. "Hey, you hear me?" his voice is now contorted to worry.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm great," I pant out, closing my eyes and whimpering into the phone, hips bucking into Bran's mouth. Jojen goes silent again as I hear a faint rustling from the other side of the phone, then a closing of what I can only assume is his bedroom door. "Gods, I'm sorry… What do you need?" I stifle a moan as Bran's fingers touch a spongy spot inside me, making me gasp shakily and bite my tongue.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jojen asks once more, ignoring my question. I hear shuffling again, the clinking of a belt. I look to Bran, who pops off my clit for a moment. Perhaps Jojen is just changing, right? "You keep making noises."

"Tell him. Tell him who's making you feel this good," he whispers, licking a stripe along my folds and under my clit, then wrapping his lips around the bud.

"I- Uh… You called during Bran's treat," I whine out, hearing Jojen let in a shaky inhale. Bran urges me to put it on speaker, which I gladly do.

"Should I hang up?" He says after a drawn-out silence, his voice weaker. Bran shakes his head, urging me to tease him.

"No, no… Stay. Your voice is driving me crazy, Jojie." I whine out, Bran's gaze becoming possessive and fiery as he pops off my lower piece and slips off his boxers, grinding his cock to my damp cunt. I hear Jojen draw in a long groan, making my insides ache. Fucking pervert, I love it.

"Gods… You sound so sweet, angel." Jojen pants out, a bit of a wetter noise coming from the other line. I grin, biting my lip and inhaling sharply as Bran sheathes himself inside my velvety entrance, making my hips jerk, and my eyes roll back with a pained moan. "I wish I was there, fuck." I'd never heard Jojen swear. I'd be lying if I said it hadn't turned me on even more. I watch as Bran holds himself back from pushing inside, grabbing his phone and fumbling for the camera, angling the photo to capture his cock buried inside me. I hear a faint vibration from Jojen's side, making me flush in embarrassment. Though I can't dwell on such a feeling for long as Bran thrusts his hips and dives deep into that spongy spot, he took advantage of earlier, making me see stars and cry out his name.

Jojen's breathing grows incredibly labored on the other side with pitiful moans and pleas for more, which Bran provides tenfold with videos.

"Such a good girl, baby. My fucking whore." he murmurs, moving down and kissing along my neck, pounding deep into my soaking insides that clamp around his piece. "You're. Mine." he glances at the phone and then into my eyes possessively, making me whimper and nod. I soft moan Jojen's name hearing him inhale sharply and whimper out my name in return. Bran's phone dings and I watch as he opens a video from Jojen.

The video is only a minute, with Jojen stroking his long and weeping uncut cock as his hips stutter and push into his hand. Oh, what I'd give to have that stuffed in me too. Bran and Jojen were both quite large. It's always the lengthy men.

Bran notices my star-struck expression and tosses his phone away, grabbing my chin and making me look at him as I whimper. "Such a filthy girl, thinking about Jojen's cock stuffing that pretty mouth of yours," he coos, smiling down at me. I feel my peak inching closer, his hips slamming into mine as he pants and grows dazed, seemingly obsessed with this feeling as he slows his thrusts and draws his cock in and out, embracing the way I pulse around him and cry out, begging him to move faster. Jojen immediately goes to FaceTime; his camera set him to where I can see his cock leaking with pre. I eye the sight, helpless and whining. Bran helps me set up the camera, then pins me down by the wrists and pounds me into oblivion, hips shaking and thighs trembling as we both near our climax.

"Holy shit, I'm gonna-" he can't finish his sentence, letting out the most pitiful and bottoming-out moan I've ever heard, burying his face in my neck as I reach my peak, watching Jojen stroke vigorously to his own, shooting a long string of cum onto his neck and chest. We ride out this high together, stopping around the same time as Bran pants and grinds his hips, nuzzling his nose into my neck.

"Don't get comfy yet; we're done when Jojen gets to drain his cock inside this filthy cunt too."

[atths--twice]

This idea popped into my head yesterday and I had to write it down. Hope you enjoy. ❤️

Second Kiss

After a case, waiting in the airport to fly home, Scully takes a step to push their new relationship forward.

January, 2000

Scully watched Mulder as he spoke to the woman at the airport cafe counter. He laughed and nodded as he picked up the coffees and the small bag of whatever he had picked out to eat. Walking away from the counter, he glanced over at Scully with a smile, and took the few steps to the high top table she had chosen.

“Here we go. Coffee and a muffin each. Bran for you, cranberry orange for me and you’re welcome to share mine when you’re sick of eating something so… blah,” he said and she smiled as she took her coffee from him. “Oh, I forgot napkins. Be right back.”

“Cream and sugar, too,” she said, taking the lid off her coffee.

“Oh sure. A muffin is too much sugar, but adding cream and sugar to your coffee is fine,” he said, rolling his eyes even as his lips quirked.

“Yeah, it is,” she said and his grin widened.

“Be right back.”

Again she watched him, smiling as her eyes traveled over his body, lingering for a bit on his backside. He had opted out of a suit, instead wearing jeans and a sweater for their early afternoon flight home. As a result, her eyes had wandered quite a bit more than usual as they had walked through the airport.

God, but he was a good looking man.

Licking her lips, she watched him through her lashes as he turned around, trying to not appear so obvious as he walked back to the table and set the items down.

“Napkins. Cream and sugar. Stir stick. Think I got it all.” He smiled as she looked up at him and her breath caught unexpectedly.

Such a handsome man.

“Thank you, Mulder,” she said. Placing her hand on his forearm, she leaned forward and kissed him.

He pulled back slightly in surprise and she held back a laugh as she leaned toward him and kissed him again. He did not move this time, but held very still, his arm tense beneath her hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered again, her lips ghosting over his as she pulled back and watched him.

His eyes opened slowly and he blinked a few times as he let out a breath. Nodding at her, he cleared his throat and licked his lips, biting the bottom one gently.

“You’re… you’re welcome, Scully,” he said, clearing his throat again.

“You gonna sit down?” she asked, raising her eyebrows as she opened the cream packet and poured it into her cup.

“Yeah, I uh…” he said, nodding as he sat down, his eyes on the table.

She smiled and reached for the sugar packet, ripping the paper open and adding it to her cup. Stirring it with the stir stick, she took it out and then replaced the lid. Taking a drink, she smiled again as she watched him.

“Not hungry?” she asked from behind her cup and he looked up at her.

“Sorry. I just needed a second to be sure that actually happened and then once I knew it had, I needed to commit it to memory.”

She snorted and took another sip of her coffee, her eyes holding his before he glanced down at her lips.

“It’s not as though we haven’t done that before,” she stated, setting her cup down and reaching for the bag of muffins, as she thought of New Year’s Eve. “Quite recently, in fact.”

“Yes, I know. But there I was the one that kissed you,” he said and she gave him a quizzical look.

“And?”

“I just wasn’t expecting it. You caught me off guard.”

“In a bad way?”

He laughed incredulously and rather loudly, causing her eyes to widen as she looked around at their fellow travelers, but no one seemed to notice or care.

“In a bad way,” he repeated under his breath in the same incredulous tone, shaking his head as he stared at her. “No chance I would ever consider any form of that to be in a bad way.”

“Good,” she said, breaking off a piece of her bran muffin and putting it into her mouth. He watched her chewing and shook his head again. “To be fair though, should I warn you next time?”

“Next time?” he asked, his eyebrows raised and a smile tugging at his lips.

“Mmhmm,” she said, chewing another bite and watching him. He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose.

“No. I don’t need a warning.”

“Okay,” she said, trying and failing to hold back a smile. He continued staring at her until she pushed the bag toward him and raised an eyebrow.

He ate his muffin, offering some to her and smiling when she accepted it, and drank his coffee. His eyes flitted to hers often, as people rushed past on their way to their destination.

Waiting at the gate ten minutes later, she looked at him and he met her gaze, his eyes dropping to her lips as he swallowed. She smiled slightly and then stood on her tiptoes, pressing her lips gently to his.

He kissed her agonizingly slowly. His hand went to the back of her neck to hold her steady as she moaned and pitched forward slightly, his kiss intoxicating her.

Boarding for their flight was announced, the words buzzing overly loudly in her ears, and they pulled apart, both of them breathing deeply. He rubbed her neck gently and she swallowed hard, her heart nearly racing out of her chest.

“Have dinner with me tonight,” she whispered and he hummed quietly, his fingers pressing into her neck.

“Yes,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

“And then…” she trailed off, not able to voice what she desperately wanted.

“We… we could order in instead,” he suggested hopefully and she laughed nervously.

“Yeah. That sounds better,” she whispered as he shifted and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, her stomach churning with desire.

“All I know, this plane better fly at the fucking speed of light,” he murmured and she laughed, pulling back and looking at him with a smile.

He kissed her again, stepped back with a deep exhale, and cleared his throat. She put her hand out and he took it, interlocking their fingers as they joined the queue.

“Fast as light,” she echoed, anticipation for what the evening would bring, coursing through her.

“Goddamn right,” he said, squeezing her hand and she laughed once more.

[agentrouka-blog]

How do you think Robb reacted to the news of Sansa's marriage in private- versus the king visage he is forced to adopt when delivering the news to Cat?

I don't think Robb is adopting his kingly persona when he tells Cat the news. He certainly wouldn't be forced to. 

Within this conversation, we have one of the last moments where Robb is, in fact, not hiding behind his kingly role in facing Catelyn. 

His king face is something he puts on when performing the role for others - and occasionally as a weapon against Catelyn within that context. His grand theatrical forgiveness of Catelyn for freeing Jaime, carefully leading into the introduction of Jeyne and his broken betrothal is an example of that. Or his public announcement that she will be kept as a prisoner guest at Seagard after Edmure's wedding. It's usually moments where he is using his role as a cover for his cowardice. He traps Catelyn into being unable to voice her opinion without publicly undermining him, and he knows she would not do that to her own son. He is never more a child than when he hides behind his kingship to avoid mommy's censure.

This moment is not an example of Robb's king face, though. 

There are no witnesses, no carefully callibrated lines, no ritualistic platitudes. He deliberately waits until they can be alone, leads her on a walk toward the godswood. GRRM takes care to emphasize the armistice between them. “Your Grace” -> “Mother”.

Only when the last of them was done did he turn back to Catelyn. “There is something we must speak of. Will you walk with me?”

“As you command, Your Grace.”

“That wasn’t a command, Mother.”

“It will be my pleasure, then.” (ASOS, Catelyn IV)

 It’s not a king informing his subject. It’s a son imparting bad news to his mother. Just Robb ranting and working up the courage to tell her what happened. He’s obviously hesitant, trying to feel out where they stand, after they both created chaos, after the mess of the Karstark treason and beheading, knowing that this subject of his sisters is their greatest conflict.

He opens by conceding that she was right about trading for Sansa.

“I should have traded the Kingslayer for Sansa when you first urged it,” Robb said as they walked the gallery. “If I’d offered to wed her to the Knight of Flowers, the Tyrells might be ours instead of Joffrey’s. I should have thought of that.” 

Cat reassures him that he did his best. 

He goes on to emphasize his uncertainty and sense of failure.

“I have won every battle, yet somehow I’m losing the war.” He looked up, as if the answer might be written on the sky. “The ironmen hold Winterfell, and Moat Cailin too. Father’s dead, and Bran and Rickon, maybe Arya. And now your father too.”

Cat assures him that his father would be proud of him. 

Only then - assured of her regard and support - does he open up about what happened, with such a sense of vague gravity that Catelyn thinks Sansa is dead. 

“Gone?” He looked startled. “Dead? Oh, Mother, no, not that, they haven’t harmed her, not that way, only … a bird came last night, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell you, not until your father was sent to his rest.” Robb took her hand. “They married her to Tyrion Lannister.”

I don’t think his reaction there is performed or in its essence different from what he felt when he first learned about it. He’s openly angry, voices regrets and frustration at his own helplessness. (A hint at how this conversation will end lies in how he is still couching his regret in serving the war effort by using Sansa for his own alliance plans. Sansa as a person still isn’t allowed to matter.) 

And he is careful to try and find common ground again with Catelyn over this. He emphasizes that they are both angry at Tyrion and the Lannisters for being utterly untrustworthy, he doesn’t try to berate Catelyn as naive for having hoped otherwise. He commiserates with her in feeling helpless. This is a son who is sharing bad news and wanting to properly reconcile with his mother. 

This is genuinely how he feels. He is distraught and uncertain. They both are!

“We would have them back if we returned his precious Jaime, he swore it before the whole court. How could he marry her, after saying that in sight of gods and men?”

“He’s the Kingslayer’s brother. Oathbreaking runs in their blood.” Robb’s fingers brushed the pommel of his sword. “If I could I’d take his ugly head off. Sansa would be a widow then, and free. There’s no other way that I can see. They made her speak the vows before a septon and don a crimson cloak.”

And for a moment they are as close as ever. Catelyn and he both understand that the Lannisters are counting on Sansa’s claim in the event of Robb’s death.

But almost immediately, their differences rear their head again. Their feelings are the same, their conclusions are not.

“I am not dead yet, Mother.”

Suddenly Catelyn was full of dread. “Wars need not be fought until the last drop of blood.” Even she could hear the desperation in her voice. “You would not be the first king to bend the knee, nor even the first Stark.”

His mouth tightened. “No. Never.”

And just like that they are at odds again. Robb would never consider bending the knee and making peace just to prevent more bloodshed and his own potential death. He accuses her of neglecting Ned’s memory, which he holds up over any living interest, any consideration of peace. Ned he would have traded for the kingslayer, but not the girls. They never finished that conversation about why, and it’s plain the reason hasn’t changed, not really. He wed his sword the day they cut off Ned’s head. 

She found Robb beneath the green canopy of leaves, surrounded by tall redwoods and great old elms, kneeling before the heart tree, a slender weirwood with a face more sad than fierce. His longsword was before him, the point thrust in the earth, his gloved hands clasped around the hilt. (AGOT, Catelyn XI)

And he is faithful to his bride.

He pulled his hand from hers. “Never, I said.”

He is playing the boy now, not the king. (...) 

Robb’s face was cold. (...) 

Catelyn had never struck her children in anger, but she almost struck Robb then. It was an effort to remind herself how frightened and alone he must feel. (...) “Do I have your leave to go?”

“Yes.” He turned away and drew his sword. What he meant to do with it, she could not say. There was no enemy there, no one to fight. Only her and him, amongst tall trees and fallen leaves. There are fights no sword can win, Catelyn wanted to tell him, but she feared the king was deaf to such words.

Earlier he had dismissed her formal reference to his title. But when she requests his permission to leave, he doesn’t do that again. He grants permission. Like a sovereign.

It is only at the end of the conversation, because Catelyn remains in disagreement with him, that they turn from mother and son to subject and king. 

They do a similar, much shorter dance in the following chapter, surrounding Jon’s legitimization and Cat’s impending imprisonment. Robb pulls up the drawbridge. Until that last moment.

“No.” Robb’s voice was whisper faint. “Mother, no …”

“Yes. Robb, get up. Get up and walk out, please, please. Save yourself … if not for me, for Jeyne.”

“Jeyne?” Robb grabbed the edge of the table and forced himself to stand. “Mother,” he said, “Grey Wind …” (ASOS, Catelyn VII)

The same conversation they have been having all through the books. “Save yourself.” - “Mother.” 

[hauntedwoman]

tagged by @youngestdaughtersyndrome to talk about five things i'm obsessed with recently

barbie and the feminist agenda ever since i saw the movie saturday it has baffled me that so many people are holding it to impossible standards. many ppl online are criticizing it for being surface level and a two hour long "toy commercial" when the film is literally being produced by fucking mattel, a multi million dollar corporation. one of the prominent messages communicated in the film is that, in today's day and age, women are expected to be perfect at everything they do all of the time and i think audiences expected the same of this movie. i think the people that went into this movie expecting something progressive and queer and groundbreaking had the wrong expectations. greta gerwig worked as hard as she could to make a movie that had a strong feminist message while also being accessible to mass audiences. yes, the whole feminist monologue is a little bit cheesy but you have to remember that a) children are going to see this movie and i believe that the messages communicated in that monologue are very easy concepts for young girls (and boys) to grasp. b) she had to work through a LOT of red tape. even the scene where barbie tells an old woman that she was beautiful (a non-revolutionary message) was threatened to be cut for run time purposes. with the material she had to work with, i believe that greta made a movie that is funny and forward thinking and something that will stick with audiences for a long time. no, it's not anything that's advanced, but it's still special and has brought joy to so many women. the sheer experience of barbie, being surrounded by women of all ages dressed in pink and unafraid to be feminine and find joy in what society shames us for, is so beautiful and special and i loved every second.

antique photos at the moment, i'd confidently say that my antique photo collection in the 30s. antique photos are probably my favorite thing to buy (besides clothing) when i go antique shopping. i love finding photos of families from the 1900s showing off their family homestead, a couple in the 1950s sharing an intimate christmas morning, a small boy dressed up as a cowboy. these memories might not belong to these people anymore - so now they belong to me. i just love finding these moments captured in time, moments that strengthen the fabric of humanity.

american individualism in the united states today there is no sense of community. outside of organized religion, it's hard to find a way to feel connected with other people. the heightened awareness of individual freedoms and rights that has been a byproduct of online spaces that urge users to bran themselves, there is nowhere for the youth of today to gather and find people that are like them. i believe that bc of this that is why labels for sexuality, gender, and even what mental illnesses we have, have developed online. there are no malls or internet cafes, or parks for our generation to be together in and it's making the average american individual feel as if they are entitled to certain treatment due to having certain labels attached to them. it's all so fascinating how aesthetics and labels and what you look at online shapes our worldview. and yes, capitalism is involved somehow.

caledon hockley if you've been following me any amount of time you know that i've already written many thinkpieces on the antagonist of the 1997 film, titanic. notice how i didn't say villain. that said, i think people tend to forget what cal is like when we first meet him. yes, he's arrogant and pompous ("god himself could not sink this ship") but he doesn't do anything to outwardly control or harm rose. i'm pretty sure he was aware of the fact that she's miserable - sans suicidal. when he brings her the necklace he knows that something is wrong. he really tries in the only way he knows how to get close to her and yet she continues to push him away. i doubt that this is because she's unattracted to him but, rather, more the realization of what her life is going to become once they're married; being a wife and mother to his children, never experiencing any of her dreams. i want to theorize that when they met up until the engagement they were "happy" or at least what could be close enough and what we see in the movie is rose falling out of that happiness and yearning to find it in something or someone else (i.e. jack). i guess what i'm trying to say is that cal doesn't begin to shed light on his more undesirable traits (selfishness and possessiveness) until he can see rose pulling away from him and towards jack. the cal at the beginning of the movie, while he can be annoying and shallow, he's not necessarily a bad person. i think somewhere inside of him he wants to be good. but i mean there's also the whole sexual tension between him and jack and cal's hidden desire to live a life that's so free and easy and emotionally healthy. we also have to remember that he has his own suicidal tendencies - but we don't have time for all of that.

sylvia plath i'm just so so so interested in her personal life and her writings. im slowly making my way through her journals (unabridged bc fuck you ted hughes) and we are both libra moons and have prominent scorpio placements !!! i feel like i identify with her work very deeply and im excited to start reading a biography i got abt her the other day at the used bookstore !! she was such a genius and really set such a precedent for poetry today and just female artists in general she's like the patron saint of girls on antipsychotics and i love her for that

tagging: @truelovewaitsmp3 @sweetsweetjane @jonismitchell @serethereal and any other mutuals inspired to do this !!!!

[atopvisenyashill]

sidebar- listening to a podcast about this season of survivor w two former players (it was rob cesternino and cassidy clarke, if u watch survivor) and there’s a player on this season, venus, who’s been the outcast for a while, but last few weeks all her opps have walked out one by one and rob goes “i think she’s got kind of an arya stark arc going on” and before he could finish cassidy whispers into her mic “she’s no one” it was hilarious aksjd (he meant as in venus is going through her kill list and might get to the end alive) ANYWAYS-

some changes i’ve noticed

i feel like part of why the series stumbles is bc it doesn’t discuss lyanna as much as it should. having that added “we’ll talk about your mother when i return” scene right before robert & ned’s talk about jon snow’s mother And the targaryens was really good tho, narratively linking the two concepts.

HOWEVER i think like rhaegar & robert, d&d saw lyanna more as a puzzle than a person, but the whole point of lyanna is that she was a living breathing girl to ned and her death completely wrecks him in an irreparable way. so when they cut out his entire milk of the poppy dream sequence later on, it cuts out that she wasn’t just the answer to a riddle of “who was jon snow’s mother” but instead an integral part of the narrative whose absence defines the people ned and jon become. but i’m getting ahead of myself bc they haven’t actually changed anything here yet and the scene where ned and robert stop to talk is really good and more or less what happens in the book aksjdj.

i don't understand why they don't have catelyn thank summer for saving her and bran from the assassin. just another mind boggling decision and weird, unnecessary departure from cat's character

another unnecessary change is taking away ned’s fashionista tendencies smFh they don’t get nedcat at all

the way jaime is like oh ned is gonna be my bestie we’re gonna trade war stories we’re gonna flirt i’ll tell him about his brother’s gruesome death and he’ll be so grateful he’ll become MY best friend instead of robert’s and meanwhile ned is like, openly snarling the whole speech. the way ned’s mouth drops open at the GALL of jaime to say killing aerys felt like justice and jaime looks DEVASTATED and PERPLEXED that this man hates him so much when they’ve talked twice aksjdjd

okay first of all I DO IN FACT GET THE CHANGE of having bran say he had to have fallen whole robb insists he never falls, and we all know this scene lives forever in my mind but i also think it’s a) another weird departure from bran’s canon, very stubborn character and b) a PALE imitation of the talk in the dark between robb & bran where they say they’ll go on an adventure

that said, there’s something that Really fucks me up about the North having this culture wherein the sick and disabled are sent out in the winter to fight and die because they’re not like, worth feeding, but at the same time As A Disabled Person i guess finding it almost enticing to be given to the chance to like Die For A Reason ya know. you always have that out. And then here’s poor sweet Bran who it just never occurred to him that he would have to take that out and now it’s all he wants. anyways i’m crying ig

it’s the stubborn streak in him. he doesn’t want platitudes, he doesn’t want to be strong. his whole life has changed for the worse and he just needs to sit in it. it’s not fair and it all sucks and he’s just a kid!!!

the robert and barristan scene is another good one and it’s bc it plays into robert’s character, really elevates the elephant in the room of rhaenys & aegon, and the way barristan is just. disgusted. standing there consumed with loathing for everything he’s become, refusing to engage with being a driving force for why everything is this way. dragging jaime in to humiliate him in front of barristan, to humiliate barristan in front of jaime. the way barristan almost reaches out to jaime emotionally in a way he refuses to reach out to robert, but robert only gets angry and picks at them more.

“he said the same thing he’d been saying for hours. ‘burn them all.’” OH NOW ITS NOT SO FUN ANYMORE IS IT WISE GUY

gonna be honest i think the weapon talk between jorah and rakharo is one of the sexiest scenes in the show, listening to two dudes who are hit in REALLY different ways talk about their favorite ways of murdering people is really fun and hot to me also elyes gabel and amrita acharia were wasted on this show, they would have killed in later seasons smh

i don’t understand why they made the drogo storyline like a REAL TYPICAL sort of rape romance story. what was the point if they were just gonna be ~in love~ at the end anyway. such a weird choice.

do i love the change from “fear cuts deeper than swords” to “what do we say to the god of death”? like it’s fine. they should have kept both if they liked that line so much. the actor who plays syrio is so good tho he’s got such great chemistry with maisie, you really understand why syrio impacts her so much

that ending close up on ned’s trauma face is so good it’s such a shame they CUT THE DREAM SEQUENCE WHERE WE FINALLY UNDERSTAND WHY NED IS LOSING IT WATXGING ARYA GET FAKE STABBED IN THE GUT. ITS FINE. IM FINE.

general thoughts

“it’ll get easier” jorah is a useless binch just like aemon the dragonknight. what’s the point of your sword if you don’t kill your girl’s evil husband. go fall on it shithead.

i do love that jorah is like “ned is a little bitch for trying to behead me for slavery even tho it’s been illegal in westeros for like hundreds of years. but also maybe having a king that allows behavior like that is kinda crazy actually bc viserys is not right in the head. i’m not gonna reflect on that at all tho” iain glenn the actor that you are.

love the lannister breakfast scene. the way tyrion clearly knows but is pointedly talking around it. jaime thinks tyrion is the height of comedy and wants them to have a nice breakfast but cersei leaves haughtily halfway through even tho tommen & myrcella are having a good time. the Loaded Look jaime gives tyrion during the “life is full of possibilities” line, where he like,,,, Almost realizes Tyrion is saying something to him here emotionally about being disabled before he puts it aside to be self involved about the incest.

kit’s acting is always several degrees of magnitude better when he’s with other starklings. idk if he’s trying harder or if maisie sophie and isaac are so good they infect him with acting abilities.

there’s something fun about the cycles continuing bc joffrey gets drunk & belligerent like his father has a thousand times, but he doesn’t have half the skill or charm as his father and just gets his ass completely handed to him by a practical toddler with zero training. and he’s so embarrassed it helps snowball this situation into a war.

the kid who plays micah is real awkward. i'm not bullying i'm just saying.

“we all pray for prince joffrey’s full recovery” “pity you didn’t spare a prayer for the butcher’s boy” GET HIS ASS

have i mentioned how much i hate aiden’s acting. oh my god i’m not gonna get through this rewatch aksjsj

“war was easier than daughters” ned every emotion you’ve ever felt is harder to deal with than the war that’s why you’re so fucked in the head be so fucking fr with me rn lmao

septa mordane is a terrible guardian i think this can’t be understated

“she must take his side even when he is wrong” “but how could you let her marry someone like that?” GET HIS ASS

bran literally shivering with fear as nan talks my baby!!!!!!!!

“ah the starks. quick tempers. slow minds.” CAN WE SKIP THE EVIL VILLAIN MONOLOGUES TO THE CAMERA PLEASE

“i think we can outfox a ten year old” jaime you couldn’t even kill that ten year old correctly let’s walk before we run

nedcat giggling over ned throttling petyr and then making out in front of petyr’s establishment is amazing i’m literally so depressed right now i hope petyr cried into his pillow that night

the way both ned AND benjen just give the most ass goodbyes to jon for no good reason. are they TRYING to give him a complex oh my god

i think i’m on episode 4. once i get past season one i think it’ll be easier when the writing gets worse actually.

[apocalypticavolition]

Let's (re)Read The Eye of the World! Chapter 8: A Place of Safety

Hello and welcome to another chapter of an incredibly long reread of The Wheel of Time, complete with spoilers. For example, the last book's title is "A Memory of Light". Spoilers! Run away! Or just block the tags. You know, whatever makes you happy. Or miserable, if that's what you're into. I won't judge until your back is turned.

This chapter icon is of Moiraine's staff, and it's used in chapters that are about her. As this is the chapter where she heals Tam, it's a lot clearer what it means than the last chapter icon was!

While he was still coming through the door Rand’s eyes went to his father—his father no matter what anyone said.

It's really very nice that Rand refuses to see Tam as anything other than his father, even when he does stop living in denial. This was a bit before the trend of stories that really went out of their way to normalize the concept; in fantasy in particular there was a lot more, "Oh thank fuck these assholes aren't my real family, my real family are magical royalty and I never have to look back".

“I do not like that man. There is something about him I don’t trust. I did not see a hair of him last night.”\ “He was there,” Bran said, watching Moiraine uncertainly. “He must have been. His cloak did not get singed in front of the fireplace.”

--

The fact that Lan is mistaken about Thom's whereabouts is high praise to the gleeman, though Lan is kinda right to be suspicious between Thom's immediately ducking out of the inn when they show up and also his whole backstory.

Her eyes traveled slowly from Tam’s feet to his head, but Rand had the prickly feeling that she was looking beyond him in some fashion.

Rand also has a prickly feeling because one of the gender asymmetries in channeling is that men can tell when women have embraced the source, even if they can't see what they're up to with it.

“That is a fine weapon you wear. Is there by chance a heron on the blade, as well?”

Lan is of course very miffed that someone's already given his soon to be protege a sword, because that was going to be his thing.

“Strange thing for a sheepherder to buy.” Rand spared a sidelong look for Lan. For a stranger to wonder about the sword was prying. For a Warder to do it. . . .

It's still prying, Rand. But at the same time, Lan is doing something so few people in this series do and actually giving Rand information. It's terse, but straightforward, though sadly it's not too useful because Tam's backstory is pretty irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. I almost wonder if Tam was supposed to be a bigger part of the series going forward, or if all the mysteries of his past were just Jordan being loathe to throw away his ideas for an older, singular Dragon character.

A question of his own popped into his head then, one he did not want to ask, one he needed an answer to.

And Rand communicates, a little more obliquely but still, in turn! He freely provides information about the Fade to Lan because of his desperate desire to be re-adopted, or just because Lan has shown himself to be trustworthy. Maybe both. Shame Moiraine takes forever to realize how easy Rand is to handle by just being straightforward.

Had I known when I left Tar Valon that I would find Trollocs and Myrddraal here, I would have brought half a dozen of them, a dozen, if I had to drag them by the scruffs of their necks.

While obviously Rand and to a lesser but noticable extent the Wondergirls blow the expected power scale out of the water, I am going to try and pay attention to how the regulars scale with basic Shadowspawn, in no small part because both the conclusions of the book and the first season are irksome in just how pathetic they make the enemy forces seem comppared to our heroes.

(Also please someone write a fic where Moiraine finds this out early and does indeed drag a dozen Aes Sedai after her. Any dozen. Hilarity will ensue.)

“Carrion eaters.” Lan’s mouth twisted in distaste. “The Dark One’s minions often find spies among creatures that feed on death. Ravens and crows, mainly. Rats, in the cities, sometimes.”

So, as a corvid lover, what frustrates me about this particular association is that carrion eaters and rot and all the other "bad" stuff is exactly the sort of behavior that a fully cyclical system needs to be able to keep popping up the parts we humans actually enjoy. It doesn't seem fair that they'd end up being closer to evil when they're just as important a part of the system.

On the other hand, I can already hear people arguing that the Shadow serves the same moral purpose so I am just gonna hafta deal with it, huh?

Trolloc weapons are made at forges in the valley called Thakan’dar, on the very slopes of Shayol Ghul itself. Some of them take a taint from that place, a stain of evil in the metal.

Since people propose that the Two Rivers is radioactive, why not Thakan'dar? It's not elemental evil, it's polonium poisoning!

So few remain, the Amyrlin Seat almost did not allow me to take this one. It is well for Emond’s Field, and for your father, that she did give her permission.

I'm really more surprised that Siuan had the slightest difficulty in saying no, under the circumstances. Like, who could possibly have better reason for taking an angreal than the woman hunting the DR? Seal that shit to the flame and move on, Siuan.

Also, AoL folk really loved making angreal and sa'angreal in the shape of people, huh? Is that just what survived, is there a design reason, or was that just the art they were into at the time?

Fades are Trolloc spawn, throwbacks almost to the human stock the Dreadlords used to make the Trollocs.

Is it odd to anyone else that this particular detail survived? I suppose it too is a little wrong (Aginor made the Trollocs, not a collective of Dreadlords), which means this chapter has two new counterexamples of magic things being wrong (the other being Fade height), so I guess my earlier claim was nonsense, but anyway.

Point is, knowing where Trollocs come from is one of the least important parts of actually dealing with them or Fades, so it doesn't seem like information that would survive the Breaking, let alone the Trolloc Wars.

Halfmen have the Dark One’s own luck.

If you're curious as to why and how the Dark One is lucky, it's because as the personification of entropy his desired outcome is the most likely one on the table.

Lan’s head jerked up; his eyes were blue stones. “You talked to a Trolloc?”

Lan is surprised because Trollocs can't speak, but Rand can understand their tongue because he has a bit of Morid- wait no, wrong franchise and wronger sequence of events.

Still though, Lan's reaction here is how I feel about the whole exchange in hindsight. Again, Trollocs are not conversationalists.

Lan’s face softened slightly, if rock could be said to soften.

Lan is very, very excited that he and Moiraine are going to be kidnapping Rand soon, now that their target is a Trolloc killer.

There are far fewer of us now. Some talents are all but gone, and many that remain seem weaker.

The White Tower is so decayed as an institution that Moiraine doesn't even know how much she's underselling the crisis, and she's actually pretty knowledgeable. Shit's not just all but gone, quite a few things are vanished entirely.

“Anything. As long as it does not hurt the village, or my friends.”

Too late for that, Rand. You said anything before and didn't have any conditionals. Now take this knife and go ritually sacrifice Perrin before he gets married.

“Did you know,” Lan said suddenly, “that some homes were not attacked?”

Again, Moiraine just tries to tell Rand what to do while it's Lan who actually gives him reasons to behave. Right now it's of course because everyone's exhausted and no one's communicating efffectively as a result but later this disconnect will become more and more of a problem.

“My age?” Rand’s voice shook, and he did not care. “Light! Mat. What about Perrin?” “Alive and well,” Moiraine assured him, “if a trifle sooty.”

Sadly, his sisters are now in a bizarre superposition wherein they're both alive and yet have never been born at all, and they probably won't make it to another Bel Tine.

“I told you I asked questions. And I also said young men of a certain age. You and your two friends are within weeks of one another. It was you three the Myrddraal sought, and none others.”

Since those other boys - and so far as we know, no one else - did see the Fade, I would guess that Fain gave a general guesstimate into ages but didn't care to be that accurate because he's a dick (or wasn't told). The Fades, being smarter or more informed, were able to suss out who was who.

I could send to Tar Valon for some of my sisters; they might have time to make the journey before we need them. The Myrddraal knows I am here, too, and it probably will not attack—not openly, at least—lacking reinforcements, more Myrddraal and more Trollocs.

Sadly, Moiraine is quite mistaken. Since they're traveling through the Ways, the Shadow forces will be able to overwhelm her far faster than word would even get to Tar Valon. Hell, they'd be doomed before word got to Whitebridge. If they stay, things go to shit very quickly.

A journey all the way to Tar Valon was almost beyond thinking. A journey to a place where he would be surrounded by Aes Sedai.

Sadly, for Rand this would not be a place of safety (Moiraine makes a title drop!). Even if the Red Ajah didn't just lobotomize him, even if the Black Ajah didn't kidnap him and toss him into the Ways overnight, he'd still be part of sixteen different political schemes in about as many minutes. Every time Moiraine tries to make a Big Plan about Rand, it's the sort of thing that would be disastrous if it ever actually happened.

“How long will my father sleep?” he asked at last. “I . . . I have to tell him. He shouldn’t just wake and find me gone.” He thought he heard Lan give a sigh of relief.

Lan's just like, "Oh good, we got him."

She did not press hard, but it was an iron grip that held him as surely as a forked stick held a snake.

Probably not any kind of Compulsion, probably just mundane manipulation.

“You just leave me to worry about that. She and I had a long talk. And keep your voice down. If you wake Tam, you’ll have to answer to me and Moiraine Sedai.”

This is extremely Southern, but not in a "I'm going to call out Jordan for not understanding his experiences aren't universal" way. Just in a good-spirited and hilarious way.

Abell Cauthon’s house flared up—odd that; it’s nearly in the middle of the village.

al'Vere is so close to noticing that something's up that I wonder if he put two and two together once Moiraine ran off with all the boys whose homes were attacked. Or did Egwene's leaving too muddle the issue for him? Probably that; probably another reason the Pattern needed her to leave, to confuse any other villagers who would be smart enough to notice the pattern and potentially muddle things up.

Tam was his father, and nobody could tell him what to say or not say to his father. He just had to stay awake until Tam woke up. He just had to. . . .

Another ironic ending, though this one immediately clear to even the first-time reader. Jordan really liked them, I guess. But on the plus side, Rand is finally ready to pack, so we are going to be taking leave of Emond's Field here soon; just as soon as our boy wakes up. Til then, sleep tight. Don't let the Trollocs bite!

[buttercuparry]

Tyrion Lannister month: narrative

It is a common knowledge that the narrative of the asoiaf series favours the underdogs. In Grrm's world, we do not have the benevolent king/lord who is the just father of the nation; in fact the one who kind of emulated this role gets his head cut off within the first book itself. We do have a prince on a quest, though this time he won't be returning to a sonorous welcome, rather he would die a painful and lonely death after being almost cooked by dragon fire. The one who had mourned his lord (his unrequited love) for years, perhaps won't go down in history as one of the greatest vassal lords who had ever lived ( as one of the greatest lovers): but rather as one who perhaps again would cause a tragic massacre.

So yes, Grrm distorts his traditions to tell a tale anew. And one such distortion is to posit Tyrion Lannister: the dwarf, the halfman as a hero.

I am not too familiar with European fairytales ( my range only extends to that of Disney) or much of literature in general, but often times Tyrion meta writers have said that Grrm has tried to move away from the trope of the dwarf being a lecher, a wicked being in such tales and has given him a nuanced and very humane depiction. So what is Tyrion's narrative about?

I think what Grrm does here ( among other things, since the narrative given to each is manifold), is make a commentary on how the asoiaf society views violence. The only reason that Tywin hates Tyrion so much is because he is the most capable of his children to be the heir of the Rock. But Gods are cruel and to "teach" Tywin humility did they make Tyrion a "half-man". And Tywin has to bear seeing him "widdle" about. These choice of words prove that Tyrion is resented not for his proclivities ( we see the great Tywin Lannister himself sharing bed with a sex worker), but because of his disability. And his disability matters because in the barbaric feudal society of Westeros it means that he wouldn't be able to perform violence as he is expected to ( riding into war, participating in melees etc). This is similar to Randyll Tarly's abuse of his son; Sam's blood doesn't sing at the thought of killing, maiming, hunting. He is therefore an anomaly of nature- someone who belongs at the end of the world.

Westerosi society has a very particular idea as to who has the right to violence and who isn't. Robb is the young wolf, the king in the north, who has risen to avenge his father's death. Greatjon Umber doesn't mind that his two fingers were bitten off by a direwolf because Robb, the heir is permitted this violence.

Jon Snow on the other hand is the bastard, a child of lust and hence the only way Catelyn could breathe a sigh of relief is when he chooses to bind himself to a order that he can't desert ( it would mean death). It is not unnatural that she should be worried about any contest to her children's claim but her conviction in the what ifs...what if Jon makes a move against Robb, what about her grandchildren, all of it speaks for the fact that bastards aren't allowed violence. They are to be treated with distrust and kept on a short leash.

Bran stands on the other end of the spectrum by the side of Tyrion. He dreamt of being a knight and Jaime's callousness cost him the dream, bringing with it the albeist distaste of the Westerosi nobility. Much like Tyrion, Bran won't be winning a name for himself as a knight. He won't be learning the ways of war as a squire and so when left in charge of Winterfell, he has to deal with the pitying looks of his father vassal lords and snickers of boys his age.

Leobald seemed surprised that he had spoken. "I'm grateful, my prince," he said, but Bran saw pity in his pale blue eyes, mingled perhaps with a little gladness that the cripple was, after all, not his son. For a moment he hated the man.

The point of my constant reiteration of the same lines is this: Tyrion is hated, mocked and dismissed because he is physically incapable of performing what the Westerosi society expects him too ( much like Arya and Brienne who incidentally are not traditionally allowed to commit any violence). They cannot see beyond the limits they have bound themselves in. The sons of lords (and yes only the sons) need to learn the art of war, should they in future have to participate in the same ( be it in defense or offence). So the cripples, dwarfs and "cowards" are looked down on and treated as failures. Ironically enough within the course of the series we already have had the "coward" successfully push the bastard into the much deserved position of a commander, we have had the dwarf save a city and in due course we will have a cripple save the world.

Tyrion's narrative is precisely then another cog in the wheel of the coming of a new age.

[she-wolf-of-highgarden]

I’ve said this a lot but since the discourse is starting again, one thing I think gets overlooked in the fandom is that Arya has her girlhood brutally taken from her. She spends a good portion of GoT correcting people that she is, in fact, a girl and then at the end she is put in a position where it is not safe to be a girl. In AGoT she doesn’t want to be a lady, she never says she doesn’t want to be a girl. That doesn’t come until later and the shift isn’t necessarily noticeable (especially due to spacing out the books) but it is there. 

“It was the third time he had called her "boy." "I'm a girl," Arya objected.” - Arya II, AGoT

“I'm a girl," Arya said, exasperated. If the old man was down from the Wall, he must have come by way of Winterfell. "Do you know my brothers?" she asked excitedly. "Robb and Bran are at Winterfell, and Jon's on the Wall. Jon Snow, he's in the Night's Watch too, you must know him, he has a direwolf, a white one with red eyes. Is Jon a ranger yet? I'm Arya Stark." The old man in his smelly black clothes was looking at her oddly, but Arya could not seem to stop talking. "When you ride back to the Wall, would you bring Jon a letter if I wrote one?" She wished Jon were here right now. He'd believe her about the dungeons and the fat man with the forked beard and the wizard in the steel cap.” - Arya III, AGoT

The only time she decides to go with it is because the knights are looking for a girl, not a boy. It’s not she was like “Yes, this is my moment!” 

“It was all Arya could do not to bolt and run, but she knew that if she did, they would be after her at once. She made herself walk closer. They were looking for a girl, but he thought she was a boy. She'd be a boy, then. "Want to buy a pigeon?" She showed him the dead bird.” - Arya V, AGoT

She doesn’t make the decision to cut her hair and pretend to be going to the Wall. Yoren makes that decision for her (and even then, the adults involves + Gendry figure out she’s a girl pretty fast). 

“Her head felt lumpy when she touched it. When Yoren had dragged her into that alley she'd thought he meant to kill her, but the sour old man had only held her tight, sawing through her mats and tangles with his dagger. She remembered how the breeze sent the fistfuls of dirty brown hair skittering across the paving stones, toward the sept where her father had died. "I'm taking men and boys from the city," Yoren growled as the sharp steel scraped at her head. "Now you hold still, boy." By the time he had finished, her scalp was nothing but tufts and stubble.” - Arya I, ACoK

Now, she gets mad when people think she is a girl and you know what? She has a pretty good reason. It is dangerous to be a little girl on the road in Westeros. It is one of the first things Yoren makes sure she knows. 

“ Afterward he told her that from there to Winterfell she'd be Arry the orphan boy. "Gate shouldn't be hard, but the road's another matter. You got a long way to go in bad company. I got thirty this time, men and boys all bound for the Wall, and don't be thinking they're like that bastard brother o' yours." He shook her. "Lord Eddard gave me pick o' the dungeons, and I didn't find no little lordlings down there. This lot, half o' them would turn you over to the queen quick as spit for a pardon and maybe a few silvers. The other half'd do the same, only they'd rape you first. So you keep to yourself and make your water in the woods, alone. That'll be the hardest part, the pissing, so don't drink no more'n you need.” - Arya I, ACoK

He’s not really wrong either. It is safer to be a boy where she is. And when we see her at Acorn Hall or Harrenhal, she doesn’t complain about people knowing she is a girl. She complains about gowns at Acorn Hall, like at the Peach, but that’s about it. She never even thinks about it at the HoBaW. 

And to be honest, if she minded being a girl so much why didn’t she ask for a different face at HoBaW. It feels like that would be a question. Do I have to be a little girl again? Can’t I be something else? But she never asks.  I think this fandom has a much bigger problem with Arya and gender, than Arya has with her gender. 

*This post is not meant to bash or criticize people to HC Arya as transgender or genderfluid. Headcanon whatever you want. This is commentary on how the fandom handles the information just as it is in the books with out taking headcanons or character predictions into consideration. 

[esther-dot]

I have a confession to make (we really need confession boxes again but like, secular). I can't ship show!Jonsa because Jon looks like my actual real-life brother. I'm okay with book!Jonsa just because he's like a completely different character and I don't imagine the show-version in my head. So idfk know how Sansa's going to deal with it but it's going to be juicy. Lol!!!!

I'm just thinking of the moodboards, gifsets, and fics that we show Jonsa shippers have posted that must have made you close the app in horror. 😂 Kudos to you for surviving the fandom despite us!

The thing about book Jonsa is that Sansa romanticizes a brother/sister love early on in the books:

"Who cares about your stupid dancing master?" Sansa flared. "Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies." (AGOT, Sansa III)

So the revulsion we feel isn't quite the same feelings she has or even Westeros more broadly which, as much as they disapprove of incest as a practice, still had a soft spot for/celebrated specific instances of it. There's additional commentary/spec on the impact of this on Jonsa by agentrouka-blog (link).

And, if you combine the fact that Sansa perceived that relationship as something beautiful with the revelation that Sansa had a crush on a guy that everyone recognizes as a Jon stand-in...well, it feels like a set-up for odd, pre-parentage reveal, feelings:

"Bronze Yohn knows me," she reminded him. "He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black." She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. "And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw . . . he saw Sansa Stark again at King's Landing, during the Hand's tourney." (AFFC, Alayne I)

Notice that the descriptions of Waymar and Jon feature some of the same key words:

Ser Waymar Royce was the youngest son of an ancient house with too many heirs. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife. Mounted on his huge black destrier, the knight towered above Will and Gared on their smaller garrons. He wore black leather boots, black woolen pants, black moleskin gloves, and a fine supple coat of gleaming black ringmail over layers of black wool and boiled leather. Ser Waymar had been a Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch for less than half a year, but no one could say he had not prepared for his vocation. At least insofar as his wardrobe was concerned. (AGOT, Prologue)

"No," Jon Snow said quietly. "It was not courage. This one was dead of fear. You could see it in his eyes, Stark." Jon's eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast. (AGOT, Bran I)

There's a post by the usurpersdog about similarities between Waymar and Jon (link) and another by princess-in-a-tower more focused on the Jonsa implications (link), and I know there are more that I'm just not finding at the moment. But, basically, I'd agree with everyone else who has pointed it out before that it all reads like Martin has intentionally prepped Sansa to a) romanticize Jon, b) romanticize loving him even before parentage reveal.

I assume Martin will go for it and make Jonsa struggle with knowing their feelings aren’t quite right, but if the focus is on the heartache of an impossible situation, I think that can pretty easily lure people into Sansa’s way of thinking about it which would undoubtedly invoke her stories/songs, assuring herself, and the audience, of a certain context for the development of what is unacceptable to us/their world. The way she compares herself to a lady in the song and we have so many in-world stories/songs Martin could/will weave into this…I think he’s done a lot of work to create a pathway for it. Sympathy is a very powerful thing, and this wouldn’t only be a forbidden love but an impossible one, only, it isn’t, not really, so the audience’s relief would echo Sansa’s post parentage reveal. So much potential there!

Happy to be your Jonsa confessional, anon! <3

[mneiai]

Okay, continuing with the Arianne nonsense...someone actually said that Arianne should be fine with Doran now that she knows the truth about Viserys and that she shouldn't resent anything he did or try to do anything for herself.

Umm...Doran basically ruined Arianne's life for no good reason.

A brief summary:

Not only did he keep the truth from her until her mid-20s (which was about a decade after she should have had a public betrothal if not a marriage by Westerosi standards and even by Dornish standards was late), but there was no reason not to raise her to rule.

In fact, more of a reason to raise her so, since Viserys would have no formal education in it. She could have naturally had more duties than the average Queen and not only set herself up to be seen as a sort of active, "good Queen," but also further increased Dornish influence at Viserys' court, especially since positions like Hand can always be given to someone else.

Instead, he deceived her and hid the truth from everyone. She's in her mid-20s, she's at the age where people blame her for the lack of betrothals, where they think there's something wrong with her. And 40 is getting to the limit of safe births in modern day US, in Westeros she's missing her most child-productive years. Yet it took some extreme shit going down for Doran to tell her the "truth" about his plans.

Viserys was basically a laughing stock in Westeros. The Beggar King who never even came managed one invasion or war. If he'd actually come to Westeros and become King, he still would have had a contentious rule. Every year after he turned 16 and wasn't on the Iron Throne it became worse.

Telling people "my father didn't betroth me because I was being saved for Viserys" would just make the Martells look pathetic to most people.

And imagine at how her situation looks to anyone that doesn't know about the Viserys thing: There are multiple second or further sons that would have been viable consorts for her. If she wasn't inheriting Dorne, she had at least three peers in age and station she could have wed: Willas Tyrell, Renly Baratheon, Edmure Tully. If they were going to have her older than her spouse, then Robb Stark. She would have only taken a slight downgrade in position and her children would still inherit a kingdom.

Wedding her to Willas would have been seen as a similar move to having Quentyn foster with the Yronwoods: cleaning up Oberyn's messes and making a contentious relationship maybe slightly less so. Marrying her to Edmure or Robb would have gotten them an "in" for the Tully-based three kingdom alliance of the Riverlands, North, and the Vale. Marrying her to Renly would have been controversial, but it would have put her children in line for the throne (even not knowing about Cersei's kids, Robert only had three male heirs before Renly and history showed that wasn't always enough) or would have given them a marriage they could have annulled, claiming it had never been consummated.

Arianne could have also simply been betrothed to someone too young to marry. Like Robert Arryn, Bran Stark, Ned Dayne, any number of other Dornish boys. If they were waiting until they were 16, it basically gave time for Viserys to actually do something or for Doran to have a deadline of when he had to accept that Arianne marrying him and him becoming King just wasn't going to happen.

Doran is a clever guy, or at least we're supposed to believe he is, he knew he was ruining Arianne's reputation while also preventing her from ever seriously inheriting Dorne. He tried to betroth her to some super old dude when he could have just betrothed her to a very young boy or a known gay guy. He could have also found someone to betroth her to that could be manipulated into breaking the betrothal right before the marriage, at least having given her one decent betrothal in her history that no one could fault her for losing.

And he could have had her actually educated to rule. Could have given her experience ruling. That in no way would stop her from becoming someone's wife, Catelyn was thought to be heir to Riverrun for a decent amount of her youth until Edmure was born and still made an acceptable consort. If he wanted Quentyn (or Trystane) to actually inherit Dorne, he could have given all three of them a similar education and set of experiences, so that people still could see that Doran was considering maybe skipping over Arianne.

I'm definitely not a "Doran is secretly hugely evil" truther, but the "Doran doesn't actually care about Arianne" part of the theory isn't actually a stretch from what we see in the text. His excuses just do not hold up, everything he's said about it is shady and easy to poke holes in.

That is to say, I hope once she's away from him and among people he doesn't have any control over, she can start to come into her own and maybe even get back at him.

Also if we ended up getting a Doran POV where he's just male!Cersei I would not even be that surprised.

[wangsejabin]

Chapter 59

Pan'er looked out at the rain.The rain was beating against the banana leaves outside the window, and at first glance the sound was miscellaneous, but when she listened carefully she could hear a special rhythm.

She reached out for a moment and the cold rainwater wet her hands, making her subconsciously flinch, but then she went to reach out again, and Aunt Qing came over and said that she was still childish and wanted to close the window, but she stopped her. That was when the Prince walked in. "Your Highness." Pan'er called as she turned, making a move to get up, when the Prince had come close and held her down. "What are you doing?"

Seeing that her hands were still covered with rain droplets, and remembering the scene he had seen when he came in, the Prince took the handkerchief from Xiang Pu and wiped her dry, then put it in his hands and rubbed it hot."You're not a child." "I am a child." She said it with a straight face, crossed her arms, raised her belly slightly, and wrinkled her nose, making the Prince laugh again, under the illusion that he had raised a daughter.

" Alright, you're a child." He distracted himself by saying to Aunt Qing, "Isn't it time for your meal, order someone to pass it up." Then he went inside and changed into his homely clothes before the two walked outside together.

The evening meal was still very generous. The dishes included duck gizzards in Shao wine, baked bran with assorted ingredients, fire cube with honey sauce, beef roasted in wine, pigeon baked in salt, and fish mouth in sauce. Most of the dishes were Huaiyang dishes, all of which she loved, and probably because it was raining and cold today, there was also a one-pint pot.

The so-called one-pin pot is a soup pot, and there is no standard of what must go into this dish, it's all spontaneous. But the Jiang family's cooks do a fine job, and this one-pin pot has been eaten twice before by Pan'er, with chicken and duck and fish balls, meatballs, whole pigeons, and probably some other things that she doesn't know about.

All in all simmered into a pot, simmered soft and creamy soup, when the pot is simmered, put in several kinds of seasonal green vegetables, mountain mushrooms, dried silk, bamboo shoots, sliced chicken, shredded ham, etc.. The soup was so thick and fragrant, and the vegetables so fresh, that Pan'er could drink two bowls of soup and eat a bowl of rice with the soup.

When the Prince saw her eating like this, he was disapproving of her, saying that only puppies and cats would eat like this. But Pan'er liked to eat like that. The second time, the Prince stopped, knowing that it was useless to talk about it.

This time, as expected, Pan'er asked Xiangpu to serve her a bowl of soup. As she drank the soup, her body was warmed up. She couldn't eat it herself and asked the prince to watch. She also asked Xiang Pu to give him a bowl of soup, but he refused. In all seriousness, the soup was well made and fresh enough, but when the Prince saw it, he remembered the way Pan'er used it to soak his rice and eat it.

"There is nothing wrong with eating this way, many people in Yangzhou eat rice in soup, we have a dish here called nine silk soup, in fact, this dish is similar to nine silk soup, that is, it is also a soup and a dish, it is right to eat the dish with rice."

Anyway, whatever Pan'er said became a bunch of sophistry, which the Prince had only recently discovered. Because of her gags, the prince, who did not stop eating and did not say a word, had changed a little and did not say nothing during meals. When he saw her eating with her eyes narrowed and her face enchanted, the prince wondered if the East Palace's kitchen was still not up to scratch, and was tempted to let the Jiang family have two cooks sent over when he left.

After the meal was finished, Pan'er was full again. But it was raining outside today, so there was no place for her to go for a walk, so she had to go around the house. The prince went to drink tea and read the newspaper, while she went around the house, not stopping to open the window every now and then to look outside. At one point, I heard her say to the servants, "I don't know how long this rain will last."

At another time she said, "The rain has finally stopped." But it was dark by then, so naturally she couldn't go out, and she tossed back to make her little dress. Yes, Pan'er had found herself another job in the last few days, making clothes for the children. The Jiang family had sent her a lot of fabric, and after a few days of careful selection, she finally chose some of the most inconspicuous fine cotton cloth, and asked Xiang Pu and the girls to help her cut it into palm-sized pieces, in the name of making clothes for the unborn child.

Don't ask the Prince how he knew this, he was just like this when Pan'er was tossing and turning, drinking tea and reading the confidential papers. He remembered that at first she had cut out a lot of fabric, and then the oddly shaped pieces of fabric got smaller and smaller, and eventually there were just a few left in her hand.So the Prince had come to the conclusion that she was not good at needlework.

But it didn't matter, she didn't need to do the sewing anyway, there were plenty of people down there to do it. The Crown Prince had been busy for a while and was afraid that she would be too bored in the courtyard, but now she seemed to be too good at finding things for herself to do. Pan'er worked on her needlework for a while and then tossed her things aside, without the Crown Prince worrying that she would hurt her eyes if she stared at them for too long or anything.

She was just a tea's worth of heat, and also the needlework didn't work, so she got frustrated with it and just didn't want to do it anymore, and then she threw it away. According to her, she was in no hurry, there was still so much time before the baby was born anyway, and the prince doubted that when the baby was born, her little garment would not necessarily be ready.

Because of this, he also told Zhang Laishun to tell Aunt Qing to keep an eye on it and find two good embroiderers to make it all together after a while. In fact, without Zhang Laishun's reminder, Auntie Qing knew that she had taught Pan'er how to do everything, but not needlework. When Pan'er ran out of things to occupy herself with, she came to work with the Prince.

She couldn't win at chess and she couldn't win at backgammon, so she had recently found a new game - playing five pieces.The origin of Go is even older than Weiqi, but unfortunately it is so simple that not many people play it, and many families use it as a primer for young children to learn Go.

However, it is said that when Go was introduced to the Japanese, it became very popular there and was played by all men, women and children. This is said to be what Pan'er had heard in his previous life. In fact, if you play it seriously, you will find that Go is very interesting.

Firstly, it is simple, you don't have to count ten moves like in Go, but of course you don't have to count, you just don't have to think too hard. The second is that you can win or lose very quickly, so you don't have to be as patient as you are in Go. Pan'er usually has to move first, and then the Prince will move again. After she has played three pieces in a row, she will find that her way is blocked by the Prince, and she will then adopt the routine of killing the teacher with her fists, moving randomly and just trying to block the Prince's way.

She was so interested in winning that she usually won five out of ten games. But it is said that she usually wins, but in fact she is not aware that someone has let her win. Usually she repented when she made a mistake, and the Prince told her many times that she was not a true gentleman to repent and that she had no regrets at the start. When she could not, she would pretend to be pathetic, and then the Prince would give in and let her repent. The time passed slowly in this way, and just as Pan'er yawned for the first time, a sudden sound of a zither came from outside.

She perked up as if she'd had a cocktail of blood. "Here we go again!" At this point, the Prince was a bit tearful, always feeling that the more he got to know her, the more faces she had, like digging for a treasure with many things hidden inside, and with every shovel, there was always a surprise coming out.

It could also be called a shock, after all, sometimes Pan'er's reaction was a bit unusual, and the Prince was quite puzzled anyway. Just like now. It was not the first time that the sound of the zither had appeared, it had been there for almost half a month, and it was clear that the person playing the zither was highly skilled, one of the best the Prince had ever heard. Who was the player? Who had nothing better to do than to play the zither at night?

The prince was not curious, but Pan'er asked Zhang Laishun to find out, and the result was Jiang Qiong, the sixth daughter of Jiangcheng. When it came to Jiang Qiong, according to Zhang Laishun's enquiries, the Jiang family praised her from top to bottom, saying that she was the most beautiful woman in Yangzhou, that she was gentle, virtuous and generous, and that everyone had good things to say about her.

What does such a young lady want when she stays up at night and plays the zither in a nearby pavilion?In fact, everyone knew that Pan'er should have been jealous again. But she wasn't jealous, she was like a rooster's blood every time she heard the sound of the zither, and even asked the prince to appreciate it. Her reaction was not like that of a woman.

The prince even suspected that she had been opening the window to see if it had stopped raining just because she was waiting for the sound of the zither.Not to mention the fact that Jiang Qiong was playing the zither outside in the early spring chill on such a rainy day, but Pan'er had only cheered up a little before she started yawning again.

It was time to rest, and it was best to sleep on a day like this when it wasn't too hot or too cold. She seemed to be a bit sleepy lately. The Prince thought to himself as he glanced at her. When she washed up and went to the couch, Pan'er went to lie down inside, but the sound of the zither outside was still lingering, with a faint hint of sorrow, as if to say that it was difficult to find a soulmate in a high mountain and flowing water.

The prince was curious, "Why is the little jealous girl not jealous this time?" Pan'er was waiting for the prince to say this, she guessed he would not be able to hold it in. "Why should I be jealous?" The prince half leaned back on the pillow and glanced at her with a 'stop pretending, I'm waiting for you to be jealous' look. Of course this was what Pan'er read from the Prince's expression, with some of her brainstorming thrown in, but she certainly wasn't telling the truth. She also came to her senses and sat up, legs crossed, with the look of someone who wanted to have a long talk with the Prince.

She was still a little confused when the prince glanced at her stomach and Pan'er became a little embarrassed, she was nowhere near her stomach, it wasn't showing at all, how could she possibly be nesting. Still, the Prince was so considerate that she was endlessly flattered and obediently moved closer to his arms. "I don't understand, why would Your Highness think I would be jealous?"

" Aren't you?"

"Your Highness hasn't even seen what she looks like, just because of the sound of a zither, why should I be jealous? Is it great to know how to play the zither? I am not extremely good at the zither, but I can still play a few pieces, so why should I be jealous of her?" The prince didn't say anything, but was clearly saying that was the case.

"Besides, if everyone says it's good, there must be something fishy in it. I was the prettiest little girl in the area where we lived when I was a child, not to boast, but I was good looking and polite and understanding, and all those older women and aunts praised me in front of people. "

"What do you think? I've also been told that I don't look like my father, that I must have been born in secret when my mother went back to her mother's house, and that my mother went back to her mother's house for so long because she resented my father's incompetence and ran away with someone else, and then they didn't want my mother anymore, so my mother returned with me in tow."

Pan'er evened out her breath and continued, "You see, it's the ordinary people in the city, there are so many rights and wrongs, you can't say that human nature is evil, but only that some people don't mind watching the hilarity, anyway, everything that doesn't make sense can make them speculate some story."

"The place where my family used to live, which Your Highness has never seen, is the most dilapidated place in the entire Yangzhou city, dirty and messy. The people who lived there were all the lower class people in the city, all hard workers, bathers who gave baths to people, Taoist nuns who pretended to be gods and spirits, blowmen who played at red and white ceremonies, dog-skin plaster sellers who walked the streets, and landlubbers who cheated, or the lower nine as they were often called. "

"The adults were so busy making a living that they neglected the children. The children and adults in the house have to be clean to be comfortable. But in that kind of place, if you're clean you don't fit in. You'll attract people's eyes, plus my father that wooden person, to put it nicely could be called simple and having no temper, to put it bluntly called a henpecked coward.

"If a man can't stand up, a woman has to be strong, otherwise the family will be bullied there, so everyone in the neighborhood has experienced my mother's strength. Plus my brother and I, we're one of the best among the kids, and when you add up a few things, there are people who see what's going on. My mother fought several women over it, saying she would tear their mouths off." Pan'er got excited and boasted.

She realised that she had spoken too much, and smiled shyly at the Prince, and hurriedly got to the point: "What I mean by this analogy is that this is the norm, that it is impossible for something to be perfect, and that if someone says it is good, there are bound to be others who say it is bad for various reasons. What is the one thing that is said to be good? We are now living in the Jiang family's garden and everyone's name is Jiang, so we can't believe everything we hear."

The prince also became interested and looked at her, "After all you've said, you want to say that the Jiang family's girls are not as virtuous and generous as Zhang Laishun has inquired, but also not as gentle and decent, and extremely beautiful as they've said."

Pan'er nodded her head, "That's pretty much it." The prince laughed, but did not say anything. She was annoyed by his laughter and pouted, "Am I not right?"

"Yes, why not, I just realised you are very clever."

"I've always been clever." Seeing that the prince was silent again, she became annoyed again,

"Isn't that so? Doesn't Your Highness think I'm clever?"

"A little bit clever."

"Just a little clever?" The Prince chuckled,

"Well, a little more than a little clever."

"That's all?"

"Isn't that enough? You've told such a long story, you're just turning the corner and saying that people are not as good as they say they are," the Prince was speaking slowly, but when he saw the first signs of her annoyance, he sped up his speech,

"The point is that I think it's quite reasonable. " "Your Highness also thinks I have a point?" She looked at him, looking quite serious. The prince nodded, and she burst into laughter, snuggled into his arms and stopped talking, extraordinarily obedient. "After all is said and done, it's still a little jealousy." The prince murmured.

[captainelliecomb]

WIP Wishlist Round Seventeen

WIP Wishlists

The Lion and the Lake by slipsthrufingers (2,393 words, first posted 29 Dec 20)

Summary: The girl in the village had tried to talk her out of the journey. “You won’t find what you want up there,” she said earnestly, though Brienne had not listened.

“If there is no lake, then I will simply appreciate the view from the peak then climb back down,” Brienne insisted, stubbornly.

Things I Love: The worldbuilding, the potential in Brienne's backstory, Brienne's search for Oathkeeper, Brienne's characterisation, that cliffhanger ending.

The Pricking of the Veils by @angelowl-fics (563 words, first updated 31 Dec 21)

Summary: The portal looks innocuous enough. It’s a massive rectangular mirror that spans the height of the wall from floor to ceiling. On closer inspection, however, the white border that frames it is recognizable as weirwood and the shimmer within the glass pane denotes its mysticism.

King Bran has assembled his advisors today to bear witness to the pricking of the veils, as he calls it. His grace maintains that their reality is simply one of an infinite multitude that runs parallel to theirs. He claims that every choice, every action or inaction, can ripple out and lead to vastly different outcomes. And that exploring that potentiality is critical to clarifying his reign.

Things I Love: King Bran and his multiverse, everyone's agreement that two Bronns in one reality would be a terrible idea, Brienne worried about falling to pieces over seeing Catelyn Stark again when in fact she should be prepared for King Jaime, Brienne trusting them to warn her and learning she shouldn't have, the painful emotions already building in this one short chapter.

Inhale by Anonymous (13,394 words, first posted 8 Oct 21, last updated 19 Oct 22)

Summary: Like it says - inhale. Jaime kept the gown, when he’s lonely he gets it out and pretends she’s still there.

Things I Love: The delicious sexual tension between Jaime and Brienne, Jaime gentle and careful in how he takes care of Brienne and her injuries, Jaime slowly undressing Brienne, Aunt Genna's letter of admonishment, the slow, slow burn, the dangerous plot looming over them.

a hungry dawn by renlybardatheon (aheartcalledhome) (21,138 words, first posted 11 Jan 20, last updated 14 July 21)

Summary: by chance, two babies that will change the fate of westeros are born on the same day: one late, the other early. the three heads of the dragon unite at casterly rock, and whether it's for better or worse is yet to be seen. robert's rebellion is over and the baratheons have taken the throne, but that does not mean war is no longer on the horizon for westeros.

the lannister family now faces an uphill battle against trauma, unhealthy relationship dynamics, and the fruits borne by their own schemes for their troubles. oh, and someone put jaime, cersei, brienne, and tyrion in charge of raising a toddler. oops.

Things I Love: The premise of the series (this is the fourth story in a series about Jaime time traveling and trying to set things right, how he changes with all the things he lives through, the pain of growing up no matter how many times you've done it), young Brienne and Jaime supporting each other through terrible things, Brienne's characterisation, all the ways Jaime tries to change things.

the top of my to-do list by Valmalpal (29,905 words, first posted 21 Aug 22, last updated 20 Oct 22)

Summary: Jaime has a problem. It’s tall, huge, and freckled. It’s a towheaded plank of a girl and her name is Brienne Tarth.

Things I Love: Jaime's obsession with Brienne, how hot they are together slowly moving closer to sex, Brienne's mix of stubborn and shy, how they care for each other, the way the tension builds.

[the-fae-folk]

Deceitful Truths

“Can the Fae tell if you’re lying?” Oliver was sitting by the edge of their rocky island, once again simply listening to the giants talk. Bran was poking about among the stones and moss, while Queen Sriki, the little pixie queen that Riona and Brin were still wary of, had settled herself on a comfortable looking throne just her size that was placed near so she could listen in on their conversation. She didn’t really join in most of the time, and Oliver couldn’t really think of a reason why she couldn’t listen in, so he’d left her to her own devices. Indeed she was often pretending to do something else entirely, such as how she was currently ordering her soldiers too and fro over a set of clothes she’d informed Oliver she was making for him because “he lacked suitable attire for any function” and that his normal clothes somehow lacked “refinement and any sense of style”. He had to admit that the soldiers were well disciplined as they threaded the needle in and out almost faster than he could see, passing it from one soldier to the next to keep up the pace. Often Oliver had found himself wondering over the attention to detail the Pixies seemed to have. Sometimes they were so focused on getting even the smallest parts of something exactly right that they lost sight of whatever it was they were actually doing. He’d witnessed a pixie soldier carefully pouring some kind of sweet tasting spice onto a tray of desserts, being so careful to powder each one so that it was even with all the others, forgetting entirely that he was only supposed to do half of them until he’d gotten almost all the way through the pan. The crow turned its head to look at him, considering the question. “Yes...and no.” For a moment Oliver waited, thinking that Bran was going to continue on his own. When he didn’t, Oliver reached out and gave him a soft poke, producing an indignant squawk. “Explain better than that, you’ve been spending too long among the Folk.” He wasn’t sure when he’d stopped thinking of them as the Faeries or the Fae. Even though he’d even heard that they themselves use the terms, and Andy referred to them as such often enough when he was waxing poetic about one aspect of his research or another, something about the other word that they used to refer to their people somehow struck a chord within him. The Folk. A culture, a way of being. And they were all so different and unique, but still... They were together. One people. It didn’t matter how many courts there were or how many ways they could divide themselves up. By shape, by belief, by ways of thinking, by any number of other categories and types. None of it mattered, because in the end the one clear idea that each and every one of the Faeries he’d spoken to had... was that they were all one collected people. The Folk. Bran sighed and used his beak to smooth his feathers, which had gotten ruffled when Oliver poked him. “It’s not an easy question to answer. Can they somehow magically detect lies whenever they’re spoken? No, not at all. In fact, despite what many think...They are capable of saying things that aren’t true. That are, technically, lies.” “How?” “You have to understand,” said Bran. “To the Folk, lying does not come naturally. It’s not in their nature to express something that they know to not be true, to represent the world and themselves as anything other than what they are. If they don’t know something or have made a mistake, they can say things that aren’t true, but it’s only because they believe those things to be so.” Frowning, Oliver had to concede that this did make some kind of sense. But some things didn’t add up. “Then how come all the stories Andy tells will talk about how they’re the masters of deceit? Even the Folk themselves often warn me to be very careful about trusting them. You can’t be both liars and not liars.” Queen Sriki was now listening unabashedly, her fashion project forgotten entirely. The Soldiers behind her were still enthusiastically working away, but their queen had her eyes elsewhere. “Ah, but deceiving and lying aren’t always the same thing. You can say things that are exactly and perfectly true, while still deceiving someone. It may not be in their nature to be deceptive, but given that their lives do not end... they have had all the time in the world to learn. Of course, they still detest the direct nature of lies, it feels too wrong to them. Even the most violent or horrible of the Folk will shy away from direct lies. “But they have mastered other arts of deception. Understatements, Exaggerations, Equivocations, Concealment. And those are just for verbal communication of lies. Mimicry, Fabrication, Distraction, Camouflage, Disguise... All of these can fool the other senses. Sight is especially focused upon, but also the senses of touch and sound and taste. Glamour is the ultimate art to them, deception so careful and so perfect that it brushes close to the line that lies between deception and truth. Deception... without lying.” “You still haven’t answered my question,” Oliver pointed out. Bran gave a harsh caw and actually hopped in frustration, flapping his wings to emphasize his words. “Think! Imagine you’re an immortal being who spends eons perfecting the arts of deception! They can almost always spot a human deceiving them because humans aren’t that good at lying. It’s much harder for them to spot the deceptions of one of their fellows, another master of deception. It doesn’t mean they’re infallible though, humanity can learn quickly and in ways the Folk can’t. If they’re very lucky they can trick a Faerie less experienced with humans, or if they’re very very clever they can even outwit a Faerie, but it’s a very dangerous game to play. There’s more losing for humans than there is winning.” They let the conversation die after that, Oliver laying back on the moss so he could gaze upwards to where the faces of the giants were framed against the azure blue of the sky, clouds occasionally drifting somewhere distantly between them and the tiny rocky isle in a blood-red sea.