#griff is innocent

[toh-proship-positivity]

Cricket here. I'll be allowing asks, no anon asks because if you want to bitch about Griff, least be brave enough to show your face. As for how Griff is doing, they're ok. They have spoken to multiple people about this including their councilor, actions will be taken. But they're still pretty rattled, this isn't the first time they got ran out of a fandom because people are huge dicks who just can't leave well enough alone. But it sure is their worst experience, they said they'll take a shower and cuddle up with some plushies and have some tea. They did admit to being scared that these clowns will only quit harassing them if they end their own life. No, they aren't contemplating suicide. Just scared the harassment won't stop even if they decided to step out of the fandom. For their sake I hope those low lives leave them be.

[wodania]

My son aegon [redacted] he has dude on boat disease

[piduai]

obsessed with how griffith was like 🥺 do you think i'm a bad person? @ guts right after locking the queen and her advisors in a tower and setting it on fire. no babygirl you're practically a saint don't worry about it

[missglaskin]

Perv!Yan Targaryen Men (Maegor, Jaehaerys I, Daemon, Baelon, Viserys III, Rhaegar, Aemond, Young Griff) with sister!Darling

Note-To be inclusive the reader is adopted, but has targaryen/velaryon blood. Also please do not report this

Tags: Filthy smut, somnophilia, spanking, choking, period sex (Daemon), teasing, masturbation, oral (f&m receiving), fingering, possessive/obssessive behavior, jealousy

Maegor

Maegor loved you. And you loved him. He was your brother. And if the years with him forced you to see the truth. Is that no matter how deeply and intimately you loved him. It’s not enough to stop him from inflicting harm on all those around you. Not even your brother Aenys was safe from his wrath. And finally, you understood why your father shielded you from him. As for all the ‘love’ Maegor held for you, it wasn’t enough to keep him from giving into his desires.

You consumed his every thought. Turning him into an almost state of madness. Depriving himself from you each second adds fuel to the already burning flame within him. It doesn’t matter if any of his wives bore a resemblance to you, if all the women he brought from the street of silk wore your face. If their mouth opens and your voice is heard. If the body they displayed was sculpted like yours. It didn’t matter. Because in the end nothing satisfies him, nothing will bring him to ease only his sweet sister could.

It was he who stole your first kiss. And if he wasn’t, you wouldn’t dare to tell him. As for Maegor, it didn’t matter who it was even if it was one of your lady friends fulfilling your curiosities. The first few kisses were as innocent as Maegor would have them be. But as time goes, the kisses become more and more passionate. Feeling his hands starting to roam and tug roughly on the fabric.

Many times you found yourself over his lap or on some table. Your ass left sore and bruised from the hand that strikes the skin over and over. His jealousy was not to be taken lightly. Daring to giggle at another’s jape, to enjoy yourself in their company, to even glance at them too long for his liking. Is all the reasons Maegor needs to remind you of your place. There’s an eagerness in punishing you, loving to hear your whimpers and pleadings.

His broad hands have become a sort of necklace. Often wrapped around your throat as a warning for disobeying him, the grip loose yet firm. But hearing your gasps for air, the hazy look in your eyes. The sight comes to arouse him. Tightening his grip, listening to your soft whines and groans. He does let go eventually.

It is when the full moon is shining in the night sky that he usually gives in to his desires. Awakened by the force of his thrusts as he snapped his hips against your ass in loud claps. Shivers run down your bare spine as the cold air blows. At the realization of your awakened state, a hand reaches for the nape of your neck and pulls your head upward. Forcing you to keep your eyes open on him.

If you are caught pleasing yourself in any way, you will be met with a harsh punishment. He is so possessive of your body that even giving yourself ecstasy will anger him. It results in you on your knees and hands, forced to endure the slaps against your pussy. You must remain still or the punishment will never end. But it’s not long before you feel his cock slide through your folds.

It doesn’t matter where the two of you are or when it is. There is no end to Maegor's lust. Whether he’s on the throne, having you on your knees. Whether it’s after coming after a battle, bloodied and wounded, seeking your comfort. Whether it’s in the company of his wives. Or the company of servants and knights, but Maegor will behead them afterwards as they dared to look at what was his.

Jaehaerys

Your brother was always told to be wise beyond his years. A man destined to rule from the day he emerged from his mother's womb. Fair-spoken, open-handed, as brave as he was chivalrous. Who could ask for a more ideal man? But even in the strongest of men, how could they hold against the worst threat of all; the yearning, the desire, the lust. If it was a lady or a servant, it would be much simpler. Exiled and never seen again, but what would one do if it was their own sister?

There was not a day where he didn’t feel such shame. He avoided you. Refusing to speak or look you in the eye. You thought your brother hated you. What other excuse would there be. But there was another reason for it. As Jaehaerys found his eyes wandering to any skin that was bare to him. A burning gaze mostly focused on your cleavage, only to forcefully tear his said gaze away.

Jaehaerys is often in denial at how he feels about you. There is an attempt to ease his guilt in thinking of you purposely teasing him, trying to seduce him. Perhaps for political gain. Why else would you visit him late at night, bend down to pick something up for him, to stare at him with those coy eyes of yours. No matter how many times he pushes you away, he never seems to stray away from your side.

There was once an incident. One that no matter how many times he tells himself, Jaehaerys cannot justify. His eye catching the white cloth that remained on the ground of your chambers. Your nightgown. His mind resisted the temptation, but his body caved into it. Through his fingers, the material was felt. Taking it with him. Finding it difficult to converse with you after without letting his thoughts wander to what he has taken.

Your scent is a drug to him. The moment you decide to switch perfumes, he's the first to notice. Whatever fragrance you wear, he has a servant bring it to him. Your scent permeated every nook and cranny of his chambers. Jaehaerys believed that doing this would subdue his urges, but all it has done is intensify his desire for you.

When Jaehaerys is unable to sleep, he knows that he can no longer resist. Not only have you consumed all his thoughts, but his every dream. Imagining you in the most compromising positions. He could just send you to dragonstone and put up with the suffering. But this is all becoming too much.

For one night. Just one night he indulges in his whims. His beard tickles your skin as his mouth is on yours. The length of his cock pushing up into your cunt, spreading out your thigh wide for him. He has fully lost himself in the feeling. After so many restless nights, Jaehaerys can rest, bare body on yours. He does not feel shame until the sun rises.

He tells you it's the last time. No longer should he long after you. Yet he repeats those words again and again. Till he no longer does because he no longer believes it. Finding himself joining your bed that his chambers have been hardly used. Jaehaerys thinks of you as a witch at times. Who casted a spell on him. A spell he's unable to break from.

Daemon

His possessiveness over you was nowhere endearing. Not when he stood over another lord’s son, bloodied fists colliding with the boy’s face over and over because he tried to ‘kiss you’. Not when he locked you in your chambers so you wouldn’t meet your possible betrothal. Not when he was covered in blood all to crown you the maiden of love and beauty at every tourney. Love was believed to make a better man, but not yours, as it made Daemon nearly a beast filled with lust and ferocity.

There was no one who loved to tease you more than Daemon. Chuckling when you grow frustrated at his constant badgering. Some of his jokes are far from appropriate, and the sight of you becoming flustered is all the more enjoyment. Daemon imagines seeing that expression on your face when he finally bends you over. His dick hard under the material just at the thought.

He behaves like a dog in heat. Pressing against you as he whispers all sorts of filth things to your ears. It appears to be a game to him. To see how far he reaches your limits. Having his hands squeeze your chest above the fabric or having them slid under the dress to go between your legs.

Daemon loves it when you scold him. When you smack his hand away. Push him away. Slap his face even. It makes the so-called "game" even more entertaining and, most definitely, turns him on. He adores your fire, and it's the closest you'll ever come to receiving Daemon's heart eyes. Further, your brother knows of your desire for him as well.

Daemon loved to dress you in tight and revealing dresses. For all his possessiveness, there’s a satisfaction in seeing a man's eye with lust, knowing they will never have you. But shall any other man try to approach you, they will come to face him. As well leading to you being bent down over his lap while you are forced to count every strike against your skin until it’s swollen, knowing damn well he put you in this situation.

Through the secret passages of the castle. Daemon is found in your chambers late at night. Where you are groped as his cock slams in and out of your gushing hole. This is all his. He murmurs to your ears. No one should touch you like this. To pin you down. To fuck you like the little greedy whore you are. Only your brother. Only him.

At your time of month. Daemon insists you didn’t need all the maester’s teas and medicines. He was your cure. Head buried between your legs since the pleasure helps ease the pain. His tongue soon replaces his cock. And soon every month, he has you come to him. But Daemon does offer a better solution, one where you never have to worry about such pain. To have his child instead.

There's not a part of you that Daemon doesn't wish to corrupt. He strives to make you want him as much as he wants you. To share his lust. Have you plead for the feeling of his tongue and fingers. Have you drunk on his cock as he's drunk on your pussy.

Baelon

Everyone assumed as the younger, you will be the one to follow Baelon wherever he went, but it was he who trailed behind you. As children, Baelon didn't like anyone interfering with your shared playtime, even Aemon got beaten with a stick for trying. To those nearby, it was all an adorable display. But as now the two of you are of age, Baelon’s possessiveness persisted more than ever. Any innocence that was once shared has been tainted by the desire at play.

Baelon loved to tease you, but it was only him who could do so. Your possessions are taken by him as he swings his arms around, forcing you to leap and lunge to regain them. You are at his mercy if you are ticklish. Pleading and whines escaping your lips. Presenting him your puppy eyes and pouty lips. A sight you didn’t know aroused him. Briefly pausing before quickly regaining his composure.

You didn’t wear a dress more than once. Not out of sheer wealth, but rather you are unable to find them afterwards. Your nightgowns in particular. Baelon felt guilty sneaking into your chambers. And as much as he wants to return them. It’s not much of an option with them mostly covered in cum stains from how roughly he jerked off with them.

Your brother kisses you often on the cheek as a greeting or to bid you goodbye. Though on some occasions his lips ‘accidentally’ brush against yours. The blame being that you moved suddenly. But it becomes harder to pin the blame, as after the first time. Baelon has it happen again and again. That you no longer blink. Even when you are napping and feel lips on yours-you are yet to react.

There is also no reaction to the hand that’s on your thigh. At first, it was subtle and brief. Baelon and you laying in the open fields, jesting and speaking with one another. Until you feel the hand reach under your dress, it rests near your feet only to go higher and higher. Violet eyes on yours as he watches your expressions.

On your name day, Baelon promised you a gift. You weren't given your gift until the evening. Instructed to sit on the table as Baelon moves with his upper body hidden under your dress. Hands reaching to grab into anything as you throw your head back from the pleasure. Certain that the halls resounded to your moans. There won't be much guilt if you come to want him as well.

As keen as he was to please you. Baelon too had his own urges. Your hand able to feel the hardness through the material. Don't you wish to help him. To ease him. Is all the convincing you need. Your brother knows how eager you are to please him. Baelon has you sock his cock many mornings to bring him luck, while stroking your cheek and praising you.

This is wrong and you know it. He always has a way with words that makes you forget about all the repercussions that will follow. And the sensation of his cock buried deep inside of you leaves your mind numb. Your brother knows he has ruined you. Ruined you for any other lord. Not even a knight will have you in this condition. But it's what he intends. How else will you be truly his.

Viserys III

There is no guilt in Viserys' lust for you. You belong to him. Already claimed. After all, you would have been wed in the traditions of your house. Even when only a few of you remain, even when the two of you are a continent away from your ‘home’. Viserys will still uphold his duties. So when his thoughts go to what your bodies will do for the other, why should he feel shame.

Your brother has seen you bare perhaps more than yourself. He hated anyone looking at it. The servants are commanded to turn their gaze unless they wish for their eyes to be plucked out. As he would undress you or take you for a bath, Viserys would examine your body to ensure it was ‘healthy’. Making passing remarks that it will only be truly healthy if your belly was swollen with child and if your tits had milk in them.

Your place was in his lap. Viserys detested you sitting anywhere else. While it was outside in the gardens, during dinners, or you in his chambers. Your back was pressed against his chest, straddling his thigh. Usually with a book in your hand, but it doesn’t last long before your brother throws it across the room because it distracts you from him. But perhaps that distraction was needed, feeling the hands that rest on your thighs and stomach dangerously close to your intimate areas.  

Viserys even enjoyed feeding you fruits. Having Illyrio bring in many of your favorites. But with everything else, your brother has no good intentions. Loving the feeling of your tongue on his fingers as you open your mouth to take whatever he gives you. It makes him picture you doing the same to his cock, eagerly taking in your mouth as you do now.

The duty of cleaning him at his daily baths falls to you. Your brother ensures that every inch of his skin has been scrubbed clean. As soon as your hand reaches between Viserys' legs, his hips begin to move to your touch. Keeping your hand there as it’s not ‘clean’ yet.

It’s not long before your brother has you on your knees with his cock in your mouth. His hand on the back of your head forcing you to take all of him. You wish to please your brother don’t you. To make him happy, to make him proud of you. One day, he will become your husband and it is your duty to satisfy his every need. He’s just preparing you for it.

Every night, Viserys shares your bed. It started with touches. Hands resting on your stomach dangerously close to your intimate area. Then there were the hands squeezing your tits, rubbing his bulge against your behind. And then Viserys began to sleep bare. Soon, you came to follow. Waking up with your nipples sore and your body exposed to the chilly air.

When Viserys finally has you. He will seek you again and again. Saying that he has finally made a ‘woman’ out of you. Your back resting on a pillow as your brother breeds you roughly. He forces you to remain like this with the mix of both of your arousal leaking into the sheets behind you.

Rhaegar

Lonely Rhaegar was as a child, nose buried in a book, no interest in friends. Only you, his sweet, sweet sister was his company. And it remained such as that for the years to come. A man like your brother was believed to be valiant, honorable, noble. In spite of the customs of your house looming over you, the relationship you shared was considered admirable and ‘harmless’. Yet no one has ever peeked inside the head of the crown prince where his thoughts are nothing but pure.

For as sweet as your brother was to you, he was an opportunist at heart. For instance, when you are reaching to peck him on the cheek, only for him to turn just enough for your lips to brush his. Amusedly watching as you get all worked up before his hands are on your cheek, closing the gap.

With your mother often confined and your father the way he is. There was no one else to turn to other than Rhaegar. Hiding behind the covers, where an arm instinctively pulls you toward him. Singing you sweet lullabies, wiping away your tears. Your face covered in gentle kisses from your brow to your lips. And you feel his mouth on your neck to your shoulder. But he forces himself to stop as much as he wants to otherwise.

It’s easy to go to Rhaegar in any time of need. Flashing you a sweet smile as he offers his help. Tying the strings at the back of your dress. Tending to your bruised knee. Teaching you how to dance. And you either do not notice or not mind the lingering touches and how his eyes roam your body.

Once, wine was accidentally spilled all over your white dress at a feast. As he always does, Rhaegar moves quickly to assist you, removing you from the room. Protecting you from the prying eyes as he presses you against his chest. And when you are alone, he undresses your dress all while reassuring you that it's fine. Your body begins to feel warm as you watch him savor the scene before him.

As mentioned, you and Rhaegar often shared a bed. He would have you lie with him every night if it weren't such a scrutiny. Your scent was all that remained when you were to depart. When the sheets were removed by the servants, it secretly frustrates him. Helping him picture you underneath as he does unsavory things to your body.

Alone in his chambers, only for his eyes to see. Rhaegar urges to dress in his clothes. The sight of you wearing his shirt, thighs exposed and nipples poking through the fabric causes an uncomfortable strain in his pants. Pulling you to straddle one of his thighs. His hand on your revealed skin and face in your covered chest.

You are used to the roaming hands that rests on all places, your hips, chest, thighs. A new sensation hits you however when the hands move in between your legs. Long slick-covered fingers pressed into your cunt. All to prepare you for what's about to come. He has been patient for so long hasn’t he. Rhaegar has every intention of breeding you, seeing your belly swollen. In bounding you to him.

Aemond

The truth is, you don't know why your brother behaves the way he does.  All you know is that despite his refusal to admit it. He was terrified of losing you. Either it will be to his brother, his nephew, some lord, or that knight that you once gushed over. Aemond made himself your ‘protector’. Too focused on shielding you from anyone would take you away from him, when he should be shielding you from himself.

Whether at court or dinner, Aemond is your shadow, following you wherever you must go. Even if you cannot sense him, Aemond is close by. Your every move is under his watch, as he believes it is his duty to make sure you are safe and well. Even as he watches you undress and bathe.

In the hidden corners of the library, you are seated on your brother’s lap. Either sharing a book or having one of your own. If Aemond feels your attention straying, a slap is given to your inner thigh each time you do so. Even when your attention returns to the book, the hand is still on your thigh. His fingers gripping the skin as a warning.

Aemond has a habit of his fingers reaching for your mouth. Either to wipe away the remaining food or to stop your habit of biting your lip. These touches are not purely out of looking out for you. The thoughts that appear in the back of his head cause him to squint with lust. As he pulls down your lower lip with a light touch of his thumb. Resisting the ever needing urge to push his thumb between your lips.

He breathed into your scent. Whenever he would embrace you, he would press his face against your hair or neck. Everything that smelled like you-your clothes-your perfume was taken. It is a dishonorable, repulsive habit he will never admit to. Throwing the things into the fire once they no longer smell like you.

Your mother tried to stop you and Aemond from sleeping together in the same bed, and for a while, she believes she succeeded—had it not been for Aemond finding the hidden passages. Watching you sleep while slipping under the covers. The feelings of his overwhelming love and intense lust entwined. In his desire to kiss every inch of your skin and in his desire to bury his fingers between your legs.

He needed to fulfill his curiosities. Pulling the nightgown down enough to show him tits or pulling it up to show him your cunt. If only he could be satisfied by the sight. If only Aemond was a patient man. Drowning himself in your taste. Your eyes open. Feeling the twitching of your legs the and pressure in the pit of your stomach.

This makes something inside Aemond snap. Even if you were already fully aware of his desire before. All of the frustration that he has been building up suddenly surfaces to meet you. In how little you are left unable to walk. In all the marks scattered variously on your body. In how he stuffs your cunt to the brim with his seed.

Young Griff AKA Aegon

There was no one who loved you any more than your brother. Aegon so thoughtful, gentle, loving, and protective. All things a brother should be. Yet your brother harbors a flame of jealousy and possessiveness that he shows only to those he deems a ‘threat’. There was no forgetting of the such thoughts that roamed your brother’s mind. Leaving him feeling ashamed and guilty.

Everything was done together. Only when the need arose did you rarely separate from one another. At night, the two of you further shared a bed. A practice that Jon himself frowned upon. Where underneath the sheets Aegon clutches you tightly to him. Limbs entwined, his face buried in your neck. Where a devil sits on his shoulder whispering to him to commit the most sinful of sins.

Your brother would kiss you anytime and anywhere. Addicted to the feeling of your lips on his. It was such an intimate act, but Aegon told you it was alright for brothers and sisters to do such things. Even when his tongue stroked yours, even when the kiss lasts more than seconds, minutes even.

He loved leaning into your body. At the open fields, found resting his head on your lap. But he loved nothing more than resting his head on your chest. Cheek pressed to the fabric covering your skin. He hopes you don’t notice the way his face and hands inch closer to your tits. Or his constant movements brought on by the discomfort of his tightening trousers.

You two like to wrestle‌. Though it’s all in good fun, with Aegon making sure to be careful as possible. Laughs are heard as you roll around the ground. But it quickly becomes intimate. When he feels you pressed against him, straddling his waist. Aegon swallows, taking the risk by lightly rubbing his hips against yours all while looking you in the eye.

A quiet moan escapes your lips from the movement. And it gives him the encouragement to further continue, low moans also escaping him. He's all the more reassuring when you tell him how strange this makes you feel. Hands-on your waists to move your hips as well. When the two of you reach your high, the embarrassment slowly seeps in, feeling the mess in his trousers.

You really make it all the harder for him. Watching as you take off your clothes, exposing yourself to him, then beckoning for him to follow as you sprint off to the lake. Aegon does, never wanting to turn you down. It surprises you when he swims up to you and wraps his arms around you before giving you a passionate kiss that nearly took your breath. Unable to contain himself any longer, your brother confesses his sinful desires.

Aegon is tucked between your legs with his face buried in your neck as you have your back against the stone ground near the lakes. He repeatedly professes his love. All of this must be a dream. Finally having you under him. Having you be his, body and soul. He withheld himself from you long enough. Taking a bite of the forbidden fruit, forever addicted to the taste of it.

=================================

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[bthump]

Something I noticed while looking for panels for an ask that I have queued up for the next day or two: this is the moment Guts' breakdown over his sword starts. When he does manage to hit Griffith as he's shielding Casca, but it doesn't work, his sword is stopped, and now he feels helpless and lost. Initally when I first read the chapter I assumed the 'what' was about Griffith protecting Casca again, but in full context of Guts' subsequent breakdown over his sword failing him and Griffith still being untouchable, it seems much more clearly a reaction to his failure to touch Griffith here.

And the funny thing is if Griffith hadn't magically stopped his sword here, Guts would've cut Casca in two along with Griffith. Based on that panel of his quivering hands, he might still be trying to, if they're quivering with effort rather than shock.

And I find it interesting that Guts' breakdown over not being able to hit Griffith with his sword even happens considering this moment exists. Not only is Casca's kidnapping not a factor we see him consider, Guts nearly killing her along with Griffith isn't a factor either. If he had successfully killed Griffith here, Casca would've died with him, and Guts is having a breakdown over failing to do that. He's not relieved that Griffith's power saved Casca's life from him here, he's not torn over his own capacity for destruction, he's in despair that his sword was stopped.

It's also a neat parallel to the Lost Children arc, the moment when Jill shields Rosine. The protector/protected roles are reversed, but either way Guts had the opportunity to kill one opponent and one innocent, and in both instances he tries to do it only to be stopped by an unforseen circumstance (Griff's invulnerability, a crossbow bolt from Jill's dad and Farnese's knights finding him).

That Guts in a rage aesthetic, sword held high, one glowing eye in a dark demonic silhouette, lots of visual similarities here.

Maybe Casca's endangerment is a coincidental detail we're not meant to examine too closely, it's hard to say with the new team stlil finding their feet. But yk, it does fit Casca's magic dream therapy sequence, where the Guts in her subconscious mind nearly kills her while fighting Griffith, and of course it fits Guts' whole blacking-everything-else-out-in-a-rage beast of darkness thing. It's a solid illustration of Guts' black-out rage, a theme so significant that it's what the story is named after.

It's a dark moment and I hope it gets some attention or at least acknowledgement in future chapters, but at the very least it's a fitting addition to this fight with Griffith, and it's potentially interesting that it hasn't even crossed Guts' mind in his despair.

[dragonsfromthemoon]

From a narrative standpoint, Elia Martell's brutal death has two main consequences:

1. give nuance to Robert's Rebellion.

At first, Robert Baratheon and his allies seem to be in the right. They are supposedly the heroes who raised an army to depose the tyrant and pyromaniac king, as well as “rescue” Lyanna Stark from the “clutches” of Rhaegar. Like in a fairytale, the noble warriors go against the evil dragons.

Yet, as the story progresses, we find that's not the truth. The main warrior, namely Robert, is not noble and good. The supposed main evil dragon, Rhaegar, is not evil — he is actually a tragic figure, just as Lyanna is.

Just as Elia Martell is.

Her death in the sacking of King's Landing is one of the most brutal and unfair of the Rebellion. Thus, as readers, we ask ourselves: was it really worth it? The rebels were supposedly fighting against Aerys II's tyrany and ineptitude to rule, against the unfair and cruel death of innocents like Rickard and Brandon Stark. Yet here it is this woman who is coldly murdered; Robert laughs at the corpses of her children and rewards Tywin Lannister for his loyalty.

The question of “was it really worth it?” is posed by GRRM himself in an interview, when asked about Robert's Rebellion.

To sum it up, he wants his readers to reflect and arrive at their own conclusions. And he does pose the question: was the violence in Robert's Rebellion justified?

Well, one thing is for sure: he gives nuance to this happening. Elia's death, as brutal as it was, serves this purpose.

[Personally, I frown upon the brutalization of Elia and other female characters, but that's not what I'm discussing on this meta.]

2. putting Dorne into play.

Elia was the beloved sister of Doran Martell, the Prince of Dorne, and Oberyn Martell. After her death, they spend years, up until the timeline of the main series, planning their revenge against the Lannisters and their allies. That involves a Targaryen restoration as well (first with Viserys, now with Young Griff and Daenerys).

It is clear, thus, how Elia and what happened to her are the main motivators for Doran and Oberyn Martell. The Lannisters are their enemies and will pay for what happened to Elia and her children. The themes of vengeance and war are explored here, especially through Doran Martell.

He wants to avenge his little sister, yes; but he also hesitates. He knows the costs of war and is wary of it. Innocents always end up paying an unfair price.

In conclusion, Elia's death is not even about Rhaegar and Lyanna and their relationship. There are more layers to it.

[chaoslynx]

So glad ur back & I hope you’re doing well! I recently have been listening to a lot of Alex G and his song No Bitterness is so ash coded… “my teacher is a child with a big smile, no bitterness”… ash healing his inner child by being a good big brother to Michael :’) could be a good idea for a fic <3 your writing is amazing and I hope life is treating you better!!!!

Ash knows that jaded isn't a bad word to describe him, in more ways than one.

There's the color, of course. Jade. His middle name. But beyond that, Ash knows that he's ... disillusioned, shall he say, with the world around him. Jaded. It makes sense, when you've seen the things he has.

Ash wasn't out of place with this, at least not for a long time. Most of the people around him were also disillusioned. They'd all seen shit in some way or another, though hopefully few as bad as Ash. They saw past the sparkling NYC lights and into the filth coating every inch of the city, no matter how high the tax brackets became in some areas. They saw past the smiles to the teeth, and past the outstretched hands to the claws.

Ash tried to protect Skip's innocence in as many was as he could, but he was always a bit late to that. And Ash got Skipper killed in the end, so maybe he didn't do much good.

Eiji was one of the first people Ash met—past Griff, at least—who didn't share that same jadedness as he did. But there were more, after him. Well, not after, because Eiji stayed by Ash's side. But there were more people since meeting Eiji who also seemed ... hopeful, almost.

Max, stupidly, despite the war he'd been a part of. Jessica, despite the harm Ash just existing caused her. Ibe, who always seemed more than a touch overwhelmed by everything taking place in the States.

And, of course, Michael.

Michael is a little younger than Skip had been, and around the same age that Ash gained his current perspective on life. Ash is determined to not let the same happen to Michael.

When he stays over at Max and Jessica's place, Ash has his own room—the guest room, really, but they always tell him it's his whenever he wants it. This guest room is upstairs in the house, and shares a wall with Michael's room. Ash worries about this sometimes, since he knows his nightmares aren't always quiet. After the time he punched Bones' teeth out when the kid tried to wake him up from a nightmare, Ash made sure the gang stayed away from him when he was asleep, no matter how much pain he seemed to be in.

Max and Jessica told Ash that he was welcome to use the lock on the guest room door. At first, Ash was hesitant. After all, this isn't his house. This isn't his room. How could he lock the people who live here out?

It was Michael, in the end, who changed Ash's mind. Not that Michael actually did anything, but Ash realized that with them sharing a wall, there was a chance Michael would hear one of Ash's nightmares and go to check on him. Ash, of course, couldn't let that happen, so he started locking the door.

It didn't occur to Ash until it happened that he might be able to hear Michael's nightmares through the wall, too.

Stupidly, it didn't really occur to Ash that 'normal' kids like Michael even had nightmares. Not that Michael hasn't had more than his fair share of pain, much of it due to Ash's influence himself. He really should have known better ...

Still, the first time he hears Michael cry out in his sleep, Ash finds his hand reaching for a gun that's no longer there.

"Michael?" Ash calls, cautiously. Is there an intruder?

"M-Mommy," Michael says. His voice is muffled by sleep and the wall between them.

Without another thought, Ash makes his way toward Michael's room.

He might not have his gun anymore, and it might be too late for him. But as long as there's still goodness in this world—as long as there are still kids like Michael, and the potential for them to grow into adults who are better than Ash—

Then maybe Ash can push aside his own bitterness, those past memories that have jaded him, in favor of learning from someone who's never tasted their own blood on someone else's tongue.

[hockybish]

Imagine if Trevor and nico had a little show on sportsnet? It would be so chaotic and funny “cooking with the zegras” Trevor is constantly dropping something, Nico is sitting down and eating the ingredients then griffin would come to help and just end up standing there watching them fail

oh god that would be great.

all the tv show/movie food references they would drop in there. "pop-pi-corn the shrimpies" "fish are friends, not food" "fold in the cheese!"

Trevor drops a lot of food and claims the five second rule. or he'll just wash it and calls it good. He also cuts the tip of his finger off and the a knife almost fell on his foot once or twice.

Nico burns water and is no help. She may be smarter the Trevor, but that doesn't mean she can cook. She'll read the recipe to Trevor and make comments about what he's doing.

"Welcome to Cooking with Zegras, I'm Nico-" Nico paused, for Trevor to introduce himself "and I'm Trevor" "and today we will be making lasagna"

Nico starts listing off the ingredients and steps. They show a little montage of her shredding cheese and cutting onions, since Trevor wasn't allowed to do that anymore. Trevor was making fun of her for "crying" over the onions.

"Fold in the cheese with the ricotta" She instructed

"How do you do that?"

"You just, fold it in" The siblings look at each other, scrunching their noses and giving fully body laughs.

"Griff get in here it doesn't look right!" Nico called out for her other brother and he trudges into frame.

"Did you guys add the cheese and sausage?" Griffin inspected the mixture.

"What was left of it, there wasn't much. Someone almost ate it all." Trevor told him, the brothers give Nico a look.

"What? It was good stuff?" Nico said innocently. "I didn't eat all, he had some too"

"God you two are idiots." Griffin rolled his eyes, grabbing more cheese from the fridge.

The dish looked a little better once it was cook, the cheese was a bit burnt on top, but it was still delicious as ever.

"Thank you for taking the time to cook with us, next week we'll be making homemade pizza with all the fixings"

"This has been Trevor" "and Nico" "See ya next time"

[doc42]

“The gods have fashioned us for love.”

Dany replaces the Harpy's throne in Meereen with a simple ebony bench on the same level as her people which is a symbolic giveaway of what GRRM thinks of her as a ruler. What is the true Grail in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade?

Illyrio is in it for love, "She will, or she will not. I told you, my little friend, not all that a man does is done for gain.", Varys is in it for duty, "Why is it always the innocents who suffer most, when you high lords play your game of thrones?", Young Griff is trapped in their little story they made up for him and he's in it because he must. Daenerys is in it for duty, that's why Viserys' ghost keeps haunting her all throughout the books, "No. You were the betrayer.", that's the story-trap for her, but her love is for something else...

There's something all Khal Drogo with the silver-wind he gave her and Daario Naharis she chose as a lover and even Euron the Hades the ultimate nihilist and Victarion the Poseidon the god of horses who bicker with each other over who gets to steal her and the dragons all share between each other, and it is a sense of freedom.

Dany could hear the singing of the red priests as they lit their night fires and the shouts of ragged children playing games beyond the walls of the estate. For a moment she wished she could be out there with them, barefoot and breathless and dressed in tatters, with no past and no future and no feast to attend at Khal Drogo's manse.

"You will be my khalasar,” she told them. “I see the faces of slaves. I free you. Take off your collars. Go if you wish, no one shall harm you. If you stay, it will be as brothers and sisters, husbands and wives.” The black eyes watched her, wary, expressionless. “I see the children, women, the wrinkled faces of the aged. I was a child yesterday. Today I am a woman. Tomorrow I will be old. To each of you I say, give me your hands and your hearts, and there will always be a place for you."

That's her longing and why she keeps consistently identifying herself with the people, it's right there in her establishing paragraph, she wants to be as free as them, and so ensure they're indeed free. "Why do the Gods make kings and queens..." is duty-as-love.

[cappymightwrite]

I think Rhaegar and Lyanna were in love but they had a sad sending.

And you're very much entitled to have that opinion, anon.

For me... I do lean towards it being a tragic story in a different way and actually it's kind of interesting to think about, since I did watch 'The Princes in the Tower: Lucy Worsley Investigates' last night.

Obviously those two stories seem unrelated, but it's notable that when you have these kinds of mysteries, what happened to such and such, there is a tendancy to romanticise the outcome, e.g. a substantial group of people believe that Edward V and Prince Richard weren't killed under Richard III's orders, but instead survived into the reign of Henry VII to challenge him as the pretenders Lambert Simnel and Perkin Warbeck, respectively. I think Aegon/Young Griff's narrative is a play on that and I like the idea of the ambiguity around his identity never truly being put to bed. He could be the real deal, he might not be, but his story harks back to these real historical figures and the impact they had on succession during the Wars of the Roses. It's more interesting, narratively, if the question is never answered, I think, but instead strong cases can be made for both sides and how does that impact the characters Aegon comes into contact with.

But anyway, back to R + L. Whether there was love involved, what I am certain of is that Rhaegar was probably far more goal-orientated and manipulative, rather than romantically tragic, dying for love etc., than most people in this fandom are willing to admit/consider.

You know, he's described as having been very bookish as a child, keeping to himself, not really playing with other children. And as an adult, it is said "no man ever knew Prince Rhaegar, truly" (ASOS, Daenerys I). This paints an interesting picture of a man, still kind of vague, but potentially quite an insular and closed off person. Add to that the Targ exceptionalism and the weight and expectation of being heir, could this be someone who perhaps only thinks of the bigger picture in terms of their own involvement, their own justifications? Someone who only thinks of the individual, if that individual is himself? My point is, I find his characterisation, what we get of it, as not the least be ominous, rather than signaling a romantic hero.

Indeed, not unlike Edward I of England, who was himself obsessed with Arthurian prophecy, it's strongly suggested that Rhaegar apparently read something in an ancient scroll — the Azor Ahai/PTWP prophecy — that changed his outlook substantially and prompted him to make a commitment to training as a warrior.

To circle back to Richard III and the Princes in the Tower, I can understand why people want to believe him incapable of such coldness, that like stories of the Romanovs, the princes might have survived, and undoubtedly Shakespeare's play exaggerates Richard and plays into ableist tropes, NEVERTHELESS... there's also no doubt in my mind that he did have them killed because why would he keep threats to his power alive? But I digress, my point is... Rhaegar like Richard, had a certain goal that took precedence over moral mores — Richard's was seizing the throne and Rhaegar's, which perhaps harks back to an earlier period of English medieval history, was this obsession with and the subsequent fufilment of this prophecy. In both cases, other individuals, innocents even, become collateral damage in the pursuit of these higher purposes.

So, no. I don't read R + L as a tragic love story, I see it as more reflective of the ugliness and ruthlessness of medieval monarchies, because the thing is... for the War of the Roses, which ASOIAF apparently takes strong inspo from, was very much a dog eat dog period in history. And killing off your opponents to power was the accepted mentality, but it was actually during the Victorian period (see Millais' famous painting) that the story of the princes took on this romanticisation in the way we recognise it today. That's not to say people weren't interested by the story earlier than that (see Thomas More, whose writing Shakespeare based his play on), but their treatment of it was different. What I'm trying to say is, for me, it's a more interesting reading to consider Rhaegar having a particular, very goal-orientated medieval mentality of I have to father the prince that was promised by any means necessary for the sake of an unindividualised concept of humanity... and also the glory of my house and my own personal legacy.

But much like Richard, we may never know if Rhaegar ever grappled with any of this, if he ever felt guilt or regret for the murders that resulted from his actions, if he did love Lyanna in some way... or if she, like perhaps the princes for Richard, were just something to take possession of and then a means to an end. And I hope we don't ever know, because that's more reflective of real history, but the important thing is we do consider that ugly, ruthless side of things, rather than brush it under the rug in favour of a prettier, gentler story.

Thanks for the ask, anon! And once again, just want to reiterate that I completely respect your own interpretation. To each their own! 😊

[crunchetime]

Griffin Tareka [she/her]

Yuan-ti Pureblood Wizard, School of Divination

Griffin has the market cornered on the Cartoon Villain aesthetic and, to a degree, the mindset too. She's incredibly ambitious, hungry for power, and always prying and prodding at any well-kept secret. She's likely hanging around these parts because she's on the run or in debt to a more powerful criminal.

Griff's always looking out for numero uno, but she's got a soft spot for innocent, kind, capable people.

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 7: Funeral

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

You were dressed in a modest black sheath dress paired with elegant black heels. Your hair was artfully half-pinned up, and you shielded your crystal-blue eyes behind a pair of sunglasses as you stood solemnly at the funeral, which unfolded at the family plot in the south field. By your side, Sean offered his support. As you observed, you saw Jake and his family approach. Gazing at him from behind your sunglasses, you couldn't help but notice the tension in his jaw and the deliberate avoidance of looking your way.

You began wearing the engagement ring after Sean understood your reluctance, knowing you didn't want to risk damaging it while working on the farm.

Father Jacob approached you with a warm smile. "Y/N, it's truly wonderful to see you. It's been quite some time."

"It has, Father," you replied.

He glanced to your right. "And who is this?"

Sean extended his hand. "I'm Sean Fisk, Y/N's fiancé."

Father Jacob's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise as he shook Sean's hand. "Oh," he said and turned back to you. "Y/N. My deepest condolences for you. Your mother was a lovely woman."

"Thank you, Father."

He placed a hand on on your arm. "If you need anything. I'm here."

"Again, thank you, Father."

Father Jacob smiled warmly. "Let's get started, shall we?"

Griff had prepared a splendid buffet for after the funeral, and the house was bustling with people your mother had known. As you selected some vegetables for your plate, a sudden grip on your arm caught you off guard. You turned to find yourself locking eyes with Jake's sister, Leslie.

"Pantry, now," she hissed, her anger palpable as she briskly pulled you into the walk-in pantry and shut the door behind you. She released your arm and fixed you with an intense stare. "Y/N! What the fuck?"

"What?" you feigned innocence.

She pointed a finger at you. "Don't fuck with me! First of all, who's the handsome blond?"

"That would be Sean, my fiancé," you respond as you pick up a carrot from your plate, dip it in some dill dip, and take a bite.

"Since when?"

"About a month ago."

"I take it you didn't learn from Ben a few years ago, huh?"

You looked at her. "He wanted to move."

"He got stationed somewhere else for the Coast Guard. He didn't have a choice."

You continued to eat your carrot.

Leslie rolled her eyes. "And what about Jake?"

"What about him?"

"Good grief, Y/N. Sometimes you can be so oblivious."

"What?"

"Jake is still in love with you. He always has been."

You stared at her, utterly taken aback.

"He never got over what happened. He joined the Navy to prove your dad wrong. That he was and is good enough for you. Why else do you think he turned into an even bigger arrogant jerk than he already was? Like he had something to prove. You're the only one who grounds him. Everyone knows that except for you."

You stood there dumbfounded as the pantry door creaked open, and James entered. "The moment I didn't spot Leslie, I figured," he remarked to both of you, then directed his gaze at you. "Your fiancé is on the lookout for you."

You let out a resigned sigh, glancing up at the ceiling. "Of course he is." You looked back at Leslie. "Where's Jake?"

"Sweety, he left."

"What do you mean he left?"

"He's a pilot. He has his own plane. He left after the funeral."

You sighed again. "Let me get through this funeral first, and then we'll talk later."

"Got it."

You glanced at James. "I better go find my fiancé." You turned and headed towards the pantry door, opening it and stepping out.

James turned to Leslie. "Do you think she'll go through with it this time?"

"She better, because these two are driving me insane. Especially when he comes home searching for her."

"Ten years is more than enough."

[lepartidelamort]

Dîner du CRIF : l’inspirant Piotr Tolstoï appelle les Français au pogrom pour libérer leur pays

Les Russes veulent désormais des pogroms à grande échelle en France.

C’est le sentiment partagé par Piotr Tolstoï, que désormais l’on connaît sous le nom de Très Excellent et Très Avisé Piotr Tolstoï.

Effectivement, c’est la question que tout le monde se pose : comment se fait-il qu’il n’y ait pas encore eu de pogroms en France quand on voit les agissements odieux des juifs dans ce pays, qu’ils contrôlent intégralement et avilissent avec un acharnement véritablement démoniaque ?

C’est que beaucoup de Français ont été domestiqués par le régime républicain, véritable bras séculier de la Synagogue depuis l’Affaire Dreyfus. Dès le plus jeune âge, les Français sont dressés pour apprendre à se soumettre au juif, à faire toutes ses volontés, même les plus honteuses, à le craindre. En somme, les Français ont été réduits en esclavage par les juifs, ce que les juifs appellent « la lutte contre l’antisémitisme ».

Les Russes voient bien, au travers des déclarations incendiaires de Macron, fantoche du lobby juif, qui pousse à l’intensification de la guerre en Ukraine, qui veut détruire la Russie.

En Russie, la tradition de résistance au sémitisme est bien ancrée, il est donc logique que Piotr Tolstoï interpelle les Français pour leur dire de sauver leur pays avant qu’il ne soit trop tard.

L’Allemagne nationale-socialiste s’était retrouvée dans la même situation en 1933, immédiatement attaquée par la juiverie internationale et sa presse, ciblée par une campagne d’agitation et de diffamation permanente, prélude à la guerre que la finance newyorkaise préparait dès l’accession d’Adolf Hitler au pouvoir.

La presse juive mettait déjà en scène le nouveau chef de l’Allemagne devant un tribunal rabbinique, et ce en première page.

C’est la raison pour laquelle « l’antisémitisme » n’existe pas. Ce qui existe, c’est le contresémitisme, la résistance naturelle et légitime à l’agression sémitique.

Les Allemands ont dû prendre des mesures de préservation face à cette horde internationale et ses projets de guerre. Naturellement, chacune de leurs mesures d’autodéfense, à commencer par le port de l’étoile jaune, était immédiatement présentée comme gratuite, irrationnelle et seulement motivée par la « haine » du juif, innocent de tout crime.

C’est un fait, jamais la France n’a été si étroitement entre les griffes des juifs, il est logique que les pays qu’elle menace publiquement comme la Russie finissent par désigner le véritable responsable : non pas les Français, mais le juif.

La mesure la plus urgente pour la paix est de dénoncer le fauteur de guerre juif en tant que tel afin de restreindre sa capacité à se camoufler pour pousser à la guerre en toute impunité.

Démocratie Participative

[missglaskin]

Yandere concepts for Fire & blood/Game of thrones

Fire and Blood

Aegon I Targaryen

With Twin!reader 

Maegor Targaryen

Obsessed with aunt!reader

Reader dies in childbirth  

Wives becoming platonic yandere for reader 

Baelon Targaryen

Being his young second wife

Living long after him to Hotd timeline 

His not so innocent sister (thirst) 

Manipulating you, his brother's widow to marrying him 

Saera Targaryen

In love with her twin sister 

Baelor I

Him with Daeron's darling 

Game Of Thrones

Lannister Family 

Reader being told she's not Lannister  

Does reader have her own chambers? 

Jaime offered to marry adopted!reader 

Tywin Lannister 

Darling!wife being as manipulative as Cersei 

Theon Greyjoy

Pre-Reek!Theon as Yandere 

Theon being yandere for Robb's Sister 

Rhaegar Targaryen

Darling dies in childbirth 

Viserys III Targaryen 

AU where he's king and how he's with darling!wife 

Ramsay Bolton

Obsessing over Domeric's darling 

Arthur Dayne

In love with Targaryen!Darling 

Young Griff

His twin!sister actually being the rightful heir 

[mayisgoingnuts]

looks at you very innocently

can I pretty please talk about my boy Griff? 🙁

See I’m being very innocent 😊

EW,, KICKS YOU LIKE A SOCCER BALL/J

Tell me about him😈😈

[finitefall]

“‘That’s so,’ the boy said, ‘and who is there left in Westeros to oppose us ? A woman.’” No wonder Daenerys haters and Greens love Young Griff. He’s a misogynist like the rest of them. Insulting Cersei simply on the basis of her being a woman. The way they cusion him from all the criticism that they'd be dragging Daenerys for if it was her in his place. If Daenerys kicked a game board down and made a disabled man pick up the pieces, could you imagine what Young Griff's fans would say ?

Edit: Anon lifted @brideoffires tweet thread.

They would be very happy to see her acting this way, having a valid reason for being antis Dany instead of their misogynistic rhetoric. But Young Griff can do whatever the hell he wants, he's a man and they can't wait for the people of Westeros to love him when they recognize their true King, especially since he'll defeat the evil woman who's not fit to rule and save all the innocents she was gonna kill. Make it make sense without any misogynistic argument or slavery apologism. Young Griff is written as a literary foil to Daenerys: he was raised to be King while Dany wasn’t, but the qualities Varys list as the ones a good King should have are the ones Dany has showed, not Young Griff.