#game of motherfucking thrones

[kelvingemstone]

tyrion lannister, hand of the king

[leupagus]

Me before writing this GOT fic: this will mostly be about Sansa, my main squeeze, my best girl and beloved

Me while writing this GOT fic: so instead of the whole dumb shit that happens to Daenerys in seasons 5 & 6 what if instead she’s presiding over Meereen while it invents democracy so it can vote her out of the city. Along the way Meereen invents journalism and soccer.

[witchy-v1xen]

Addressing the toxic team black accusations against Tom Glynn-Carney.

First and foremost, he is not a rapist; his character, Aegon, the second Targaryen, is. Second of all, I hate how some of you pretend Viserys and Daemon weren't groomers. Nine times out of ten, you don't see sane people from Team Green making rape accusations against Paddy and Matt. Just please fucking stop it; it's like some of you really want to ruin this man's career. And you can say what you want, so please do comment in defense of the toxic actions being taken because I want all the smoke.  I was also told by my aunt that he was a rapist, but I was quick to shut that shit down from the door. It goes to show how quickly false information is spread and how much it could really impact somebody's life. It's disgusting and makes me sick that some of you team black fans have so much hatred for his character that some of you are willing to corrupt this man's life. I find it hilarious that some of you have the sheer audacity to be that fucking bold behind a computer screen or a screen of whatever mobile device is in your possession, but would some of you ever make a statement like that in front of his face? No, most of you wouldn't even dare to do so because he is able to sue for defamation in court by law. So, please don't ditch what you can take because you will get verbally bodied by me morally, and that's not a will; that's a promise. 

Please Reblog.

[iamburdened]

Girl, I LOVE to give feedback on good fanfiction. It’s like an obsession.

Did I spend the night reading it? Did it make me cry, giggle, get enraged?? Did I fall in love? Did it break my heart? I’LL LET THE WRITER NOW IT ALL IN DETAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They wrote this PIECE OF ART and then thought ‘what if I gave it for free to everyone?’, if you think for a moment I will not worship them for it YOU ARE CRAZY!

[princessfishy]

Fuck bitches who know their wrong but wont admit their actions, go get them girl. House Of The Dragon has been such a joy in these times.

//do not use my art without permission

[satinoflowers]

only valid arya and sansa discourse is about which one we use he/him pronouns for

[twist-shout-and-shells]

They're gonna do the Inquisitor as dirty in Veilguard as they did Hawke in Inquisition, huh?

[greenerteacups]

personal pet peeve is when people talk about written stories like they all boil down to a classic hollywood blockbuster structure. "status quo/inciting incident/rising action montage/climax/catharsis" is a good structure that works well but (a) it's one of literally thousands that exist and (b) it doesn't account for how multiple stories can coexist in the same text. what about your subplots? what about secondary and tertiary stories? when are their inciting incidents, and how do they coincide with the "main" plot? what if the"main" plot itself has multiple threads? what if you are writing a world, not a movie?

[moonyackertarg]

so people who hate Rhaenyra Targaryen hate her because *checks notes*: 

 -she's an independent woman who doesn't abide by the rules of the patriarchy 

-she is sexually liberated 

-she's a loving mother 

-she chose to first act with words than with outright war

interesting...  

[mercuryislove]

someone needs to make those ambient background videos in the style of calmed by nature but with destiny locations

[thedarkestgreys]

WHAT DO WE SAY TO THE GOD OF DEATH?

[leupagus]

Am I writing this largely because I enjoy the idea of Sansa and Stannis constantly hissing at each other like two belligerent cats? Listen,

x

By the first week of the siege, Sansa was forced to admit — if only to herself —that warfare was far less exciting than she'd imagined. When she had been told of Robb's victories in the Riverlands she had always pictured him triumphant upon a fearsome destrier, sword held high as he cut down his enemies before him. Then he'd been killed and she had lived through the Battle of the Blackwater, waiting either rescue or slaughter by the very man who was now her ally. That had not been exciting, precisely, but it had not been this dull and plodding affair. A far cry from the valiant knights and noble battles she'd read when she was a girl; but she'd had precious little turn out the way she'd been taught.

She slept at the camps near the front lines, in the same soldier's tent she and Brienne and Podrick had shared for the past four months. Stannis had made all sorts of ridiculous protests about "ladies" and "danger" until she'd had to remind him, once again, that her eight thousand men gave her the freedom to dictate her own movements.

"All very well while we're waiting out here, my lady," he'd growled in response, after his requisite glare at her flawless logic, "But when battle joins, you'll be nothing more than a nuisance."

"In which case, I'll be quickly killed and you can have Rickon installed as Lord of Winterfell instead," she'd replied, "as you were hoping to do in the first place." That had shut him up, at least, and he'd gone back to scowling at Winterfell's walls.

Every night when she returned to the camp, she stopped at Stannis's tent and joined the conference with their commanders and lieutenants. It was then that she learned about the waging of war: how men were best deployed, how training was maintained even in the midst of a siege, how sickness was kept at bay so that it did not kill more soldiers than did the battles. Stannis disliked her presence there, too, but she was rapidly coming to understand that he would only be truly happy when she was out of his life for good. Possibly not even then. He did not seem a man much given to smiles.

The men did not share Stannis's view, at least; as she walked through the lines each morning and night they stood to bow to her, and press the back of her hand to their foreheads as she remembered they had done to Mother so long ago.

"They say that the old gods have brought you back to us," Lord Reed told her one day, as he accompanied her on her daily walk to the winter town. "That they were angered when the Starks were driven from Winterfell, and that they're drawing you all back here one by one. They say that Robb Stark may come back from the dead, such is the rage of the gods, and avenge all who wronged your house."

Joffrey had been diligent in recounting every detail of what had happened to Robb's body after Roose Bolton had killed him. She repressed a shudder to think of it and held more tightly to Reed's arm, grateful for the warmth of him at her side. "I hope they are not disappointed if all they get is me and Rickon."

Reed chuckled. "They're well-satisfied, my lady," he said. They walked into the winter town just as the sun broke over the mountains. "You're a sight prettier than the Young Wolf ever was, that's certain."

The winter town was where her real work was done each day. It was the custom every winter for the smallfolk of the North to leave their hides holdfasts and journey here, bringing what they could cart or carry. The winter town would eventually house nearly one in three of every soul living in the North, seeking shelter together to endure the cold.

The Boltons had not bothered to do their duty, laying in no provisions and building no new housing. Up until now it had mattered little; even as the winds had begun to blow, few smallfolk had dared to come take shelter under the banners of the flayed man. The town itself had been all but abandoned, until word of the Starks' return had begun to spread throughout the North.

Now the winter town seemed to double in size with each passing day despite the ongoing siege of the Keep. Sansa had her hands full in directing builders, organizing kitchens, allocating what resources they had to feed and shelter everyone. In this she was aided by any number of friends and allies: those servants and household members who had first escaped during Winterfell's seizure by the Ironborn, or who had endured that but had fled the Boltons' brutal takeover; the households of her lords who had come to support the siege; even Lady Umber and her formidable staff lent a hand before she returned to Last Hearth. Her most steadfast assistants were Rickon and Shireen, who at first had joined her out of boredom but were now her little lieutenants, breathlessly updating her on all events of the previous night as she joined them for breakfast each morning. She received aid also from her men in the armies, assigning their builders to fortify the town in much the same way they were fortifying the siege camp.

Her lords approved of this; Stannis, of course, did not.

"You seek another threescore soldiers?" he demanded one evening.

The siege had now dragged on near a month. Bolton's men showed signs of distress, Lord Flint reported with no small satisfaction; they would not last much longer. But this had brought a fresh concern, and Sansa had broached it during their evening conference.

"We need to build up the palisades along the eastern side of the winter town," Sansa insisted, pointing at the map spread out along the table, with the various pieces representing the various companies all arrayed neatly atop. Stannis's wooden flaming hearts were outnumbered by Sansa's wolf heads two to one, though many of hers appeared hastily-carved from whatever spare wood was at hand. She reached for a flaming heart on the far side of the Keep, well away from the siege. "It need only be for—"

"Give me that," Stannis snapped, snatching it back. "Those men are covering the huntsman's gate, should any of Bolton's forces be cowardly enough to attempt escape rather than stand and fight."

"And you anticipate that happening in the next day?" she demanded, resisting the urge to lunge for the piece the way she used to with Robb when he had teasingly stolen her embroidery, holding it just out of reach. "There must be fifty or sixty men out of twelve thousand that can be spared."

"Why are the palisades in need of building up in the first place?" Stannis demanded, as Lord Glover opened and then shut his mouth to reply to her. "This winter town of yours is folly — you cannot grant entry to every farmer and tinker who pleads for shelter."

Sansa gaped at him in outrage, though even as she did so she was heartened to hear the murmur of her lords at such a comment. "That is precisely what is done, and has been for every winter since before Bran the Builder set stones to build Winterfell!" She glared at him. "This is a refuge, Your Grace."

"This is a siege, my lady," he retorted, looming over her. She thought longingly of the beautiful heeled shoes Margaery wore; she needed only a few inches to match Stannis's height, and see what good his looming did him then. "The smallfolk congregate here at their own risk!"

"My people congregate here because they believe I will keep them safe, and I will do so. With or without Your Grace's help!"

"Without, if it pleases my lady!"

Half-ready to club him over the head with the nearest chair, Sansa grabbed the flaming heart out of his hands and waved it in his face. "What are these men supposed to do, if Bolton and his soldiers escape out this way?"

Stannis looked too near a fit of apoplexy to reply, so it was Lord Cerwyn who cleared his throat and answered, "They are charged to report back, my lady, with some following at a safe distance to see where they go."

"It's perfectly obvious where they'll go," Sansa snapped. "Lord Bolton will make for the Dreadfort."

"Of course he will," said Stannis, finding his voice at last, though he did not try for the wolf's-head piece again. "That doesn't mean—"

"I know three dozen local boys who could hide along the route from the huntsman's gate to the eastern road and bring back reports, without clomping about the forests in full armor," Sansa said, slamming the piece down at the winter town. "And they might be able to bring back some food, while they're at it. Unlike your soldiers, they know how to hunt in the Wolfswood without frightening off half the game."

A few days later, she had her men.

[theghooligan]

ya’ll when dafuq are they gonna give us aemond’s sapphire ass eye? this motherfucker—well i guess he isn’t really one of those targareyn’s—really said “bitch took my eye? that’s okay. they can die for my aesthetic” and i mean, he is a little shit but he is also like…the biggest mood. but dont worry, i am team black through and through, and lucerys is an even bigger badass for taking aemond’s eye. i just need to see his petty ass be that fancy.

[chainsawcorazon]

genuinely fascinated by the fact that barely anyone caught onto the implication of future jon kent/lor zod romance bc of how heterosexually inclined fandumb is. like i just HAD to dig into old articles (bc i love drama, as previously established) on how the audience took to the el/zod marriage that produced mon el, and barely anyone except maybe that one random CBR article entertained the assumption that jon and lor eventually marry. like yeah, jon was smashing saturn girl at the time, but NOBODY thought that maybe jon and lor zod ended up together, when technically, they’d be the most likely to get married down the line due to them being so close in age and already in existence??? did y’all think jon was gonna fuck ursa??? i had to holler when i saw someone say “superman’s future daughter,” like fam, COME ON….. and then the tom taylor nation attacked, and jon was finally IRREVOCABLY bisexual.

i am convinced taylor wasn’t the one who pitched queer!jon 😂😂 bendis had it in his notes, probably didn’t get to bring it to production, so thus slipped in the jon kent/lor zod implied marriage. now jon is OPENLY bi, so allah help us all if bendis ever gets the pen again 😔

[irlbisexual]

which quentin tarantino ass motherfucker in the writers room made larys strong quid-pro-quo trade whatever weird scheming he does for a social distance footjob instead of. literally anything else.

[melenae]

house of the dragons writers get that fucking dagger out of my face challenge