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howlingday · 4 years

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About Jaune ships...

I have opinions. You may not agree, but they are mine. They may change in time, but not now.

LANCASTER ( RUBY X JAUNE )

The old tried and true. I mean, what's not to like? Cute girl falls for first guy she meets at Beacon? Classic romance trope, and after reading how much Ruby loves romance stories (I consider certain parts in the manga canon), it makes sense. In fact, after Arkos sank (A moment of silence, please . . . Thank you), many moved to Lancaster, which isn't bad. Happens all the time in fandoms. Sad thing, though, is far I think she'll last. If we're talking Volume 5 or earlier, then maybe. However, I feel if Ruby were to have an endgame in romance, it would be RoseGarden (I have opinions on that as well, but today isn't the day to discuss that), mostly because Oscar bumped Jaune's role from male lead to male side. Not to mention that while Jaune is becoming a beast in his own right, Ruby is a different creature altogether and evolving her character more rapidly and chaotically than anyone else (Must be all that screentime).

TLDR: I want it to be canon, but I might just be hoping.

WHITE KNIGHT ( WEISS X JAUNE)

Doofus in tin foil meets princess who hates daddy (Am I in the romance section of the library? You know, the corner for adults only?) No, but I do like this ship. I'm always a sucker for the fantasy genre, and using a zero to hero male makes it relatable. I also kind of ship it because the same reason I ship NaruSaku in the Naruto fandom: he likes her and he's willing to go the distance. But enough about that; instead let's talk about canon. Will they hook up? It's a soft maybe for me, for two reasons. 1. Rosegarden is most likely to be endgame, and after Ruby and Pyrrha, I'd say Weiss is Jaune's next to be his love interest. 2. Weiss has warmed up to Jaune. Sure, not lover or crush level (Yet), but she's definitely changed her opinion on him. In Volume 1, Jaune was bugging her, like all the time, which I could see as him getting mixed signals on (Exhibit A: Tall, blonde, and scraggly). When Volume 5 came around, everyone jumped onboard because he saved her life (Don't lie, because I'll admit that I did it, too). Not the best reason, but still reason enough, I'd say. Then in Volume 7, she hangs out with him and Oscar to the movies (It was either that or awkward Bumbleby all night. I feel ya, sister). Nothing romantic happens, but it does show how much their relationship has developed. If Weiss is Jaune's endgame, then they have set the pieces up perfectly to do so.

TLDR: High likelihood to be canon and I'm a sucker for Knight/Princess ships.

KNIGHTSHADE ( BLAKE X JAUNE)

This is the part where I say definitely not. Not in a million years, but I'll explain why I like the ship, though. As for why it won't work, the answer is Bumbleby. They haven't kissed yet, but you know they're going to eventually (Because if they don't, the fans will attack like a swarm of hornets). But here's the question you might be asking now: why do I ship this? Well, it's part of the allure of "opposites attract" ('Cause I'm dressed like a cat!). Blake is an intelligent, outspoken, and agile ninja with a criminal history of terrorism who spends her free time reading novels. Jaune is a B at best on his tests, soft-hearted, and ground-based knight who's worst crime is fraud (Still a crime, but peanuts compared to literal terrorism) and spends his free time hanging out with his team. Day and night. But they also tried that with Sun for a season and a half and it didn't last (BECAUSE BEES).

TLDR: Not even a snowball's chance in the summer sun, but so much story potential if you do (Which I do)!

DRAGONSLAYER ( YANG X JAUNE )

This, I would say, is the opposite of Knightshade, where Jaune is the day and Blake is night, here Yang is the Sun and Jaune is the Moon (Like their crests! Remember those? Y'know, when they were relevant?) Will it work? Even less so than Knightshade. However, it does open up some interesting paths considering how... provocative Yang can be, and Jaune, compared to the other guys, is the nerdiest, geekiest dude at Beacon. It's like the cheerleader/nerd romance, except the cheerleader is the captain of every sports team... and rides a motorcycle. The Volume 8 preview introduced us to Yang and Jaune riding motorcycles and we went nuts over it. Yang was back in her element, roaring down the street, riding on walls, popping off tricks with Oscar riding- Back to what I was saying, people were asking, "How did he know how to ride a motorcycle?" and the elementary answer is "He didn't." He almost fell off his bike from a small box in the road. True, anyone would, but look at how he reacts: he stiffens, he refocuses on the road. This kid literally started riding at breakfast, and I DARE you to prove me wrong. But hey, great fic material right there, though, eh?

TLDR: Never gonna happen, but I don't care. All I care about is writing that they love each other. And they also fu-!

ARKOS ( PYRRHA X JAUNE )

I'm sorry, I need a moment. . . . Alright. Do it for her. This ship... was perfect. Probably the best ship out them all. I legit almost cry every time I think about Volume 3. Pyrrha was everyone's favorite. Her background, her interactions, her choreography, everything! But, of course, like everything in our lives, she was too good to be true. But let's honor her memory by talking about her ship, Arkos. Pyrrha was the champion of the world, the Brothers' and Oums' gift to Remnant. She could do no wrong and she HATED it. Her plight was with how she was seen. Everybody knew her! Everybody, except Jaune. And he only figured out she was "a big deal" was because Weiss had to spell it out for him! As time went on, they became the best of friends, two peas in a pod, the perfect odd couple! They worked together and trusted each other, they cared for and supported each other, they lo- No. No, I can't say it. It's been years, and it still hurts. So, I'll explain something else: the reason why Jaune SHOULD NOT be shipped right now. That reason is Pyrrha. Jaune was helpless to save her. He's suffering from survivor's guilt and he's still grieving. In Volume 4, he would sneak away and train until late at night to scroll recording of her. In Volume 5, he confronted Cinder and got Weiss almost killed because he let his grief for Pyrrha take control of him and let his emotions run wild. In Volume 6, he finds the Pyrrha statue and he... I don't know how to say this, but he let's go. He accepts that Pyrrha is gone and he's starting the healing process. He's finally ready to move forward.

TLDR: T.T I never felt that it was wise to wish too much~

MARTIAL ARCS ( REN X JAUNE)

I'll be honest, I don't really ship it. Yeah, it's cute, and it falls perfectly into the "if I had to pick a guy" part of me, but to be honest, I don't ship it. 10% because Renora and 90% it just doesn't click with me. They both just seem too soft, too quiet, too introverted. Best friends? Yes, definitely! But lovers? Eeeeeh, not really.

TLDR: I will only ship as neccessary.

NORA'S ARC ( NORA X JAUNE )

I've only just got in this deep with the fandom only recently, so I don't know if a lot of you know me. Heck, I'm probably just some RWBY fan you happen to spot as you move through your dash. However, old or new, I want to be made absolutely positively clear on this. Of all the ships here, this has got to be my-

O T FUDGIN' P

Wow! Never thought I'd feel so strongly about a crack ship like this. And yes, as sad it is to say, this is a crack ship. Renora was planned from day one, so it can't be helped. At least it didn't blast me in the face all of the sudden (OH NO, NOT THE BEES! AAAAARGH! THEY'RE IN MY EYES!). But why this ship? Well, for one thing, it's that whole opposites attract thing with Nora as the bubbly, outspoken, airhead powerhouse and Jaune as the soft spoken, introverted, nerd tactician. But wait, there's more to this trope, because it can go deeper: Order VS Chaos! Who makes all the messes? Who cleans up those messes? Who follows all the rules? Who makes their own doors? It's just. So. Damn! GOOD! One sad thing about this ship though is that it's not only not canon because of Renora, it's anti-canon because Renora. Every fan fic of Nora's Arc requires an explanation for Ren and Nora to not be together-together, like you have to write a formal apology to the FNDM for liking something that's different from what is canon or commonly accepted. If that's the case, then I'll be the anarchist here!

TLDR: I LOVE IT! What's that? Not canon? Who gives a damn?! I just explained why Jaune won't be shipped anyways! Now, if you'll excuse, I have some fan fics to find.

ARCFALL ( CINDER X JAUNE )

Oh, here it goes! Now, if we're talking ships that'll never happen, this is where we find better reasons than "it's not canon" and "character development". No, this... This is a declaration of war. Allow me to explain. Cinder Fall is evil. Like, down to her core. She wants power and she'll cut through anyone to get to it. Including Pyrrha. This woman sank Arkos by means other than "X and Y kissed, so..." She killed X, leaving Y alone. And her interactions with Jaune tell me she wouldn't even be worth a hate-bang. But, as Momma always, there's a thin line between love and hate. This is where the appeal comes in. Cinder is evil with no past, which leaves the previous chapter's of her life story blank to be filled in. Jaune is good with a troublesome, albeit easy past, but untapped potential for more. It's another opposites attract, but different from INTRO VS EXTRO and CHAOS VS ORDER; this is GOOD VS EVIL. Who will win this battle of wills; will our hero purify the tainted heart, or will he slip deeper into darkness, never to return to the light?

TLDR: Should be a NOTP, and yet the allure pulls me in.

What do y'all think? Do you agree? Let me know!

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juleswolverton-hyde · 5 years

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Word by Word | 01 (Bangchan x Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Romance, University/College AU

Pairing: Graphic design student!Bangchan x Literature student!/Irish!Reader

Warnings: Swearing (but what can you honestly expect when dealing with an Irish person?)

Summary: An ancient saying dictates that polar opposites attract, which is proven once again once an introverted whiskey-loving aspiring author meets a fairly extroverted boy initially proposing to survive the loneliness brought about by academic administration together.

But soon the meaning of ‘together’ expands as personal creative worlds are explored and understanding stirs up hidden emotions.

Masterlist

Next Part

For anxious people, friendly support from strangers oddly turning into companions is often needed to get through the day, finding solace in the kindred spirit of the bond has been established despite being not worth a dime. The previous semester could only be survived thanks to the small group of friends that made the seminars more bearable, huddling together and always having at least one to have as a research partner or discuss a primary source with. Withal, the university administration has different plans for the second half of the year, resulting in the complete split from familiar faces which will now only be seen on Monday for the start of the academic week with lectures.

Henceforth, yesterday was only the misleading silence before the storm, chatting and fooling around with curiously close relationships during the day. As per usual, multiple pairs of shoes found themselves to the habitual café by the canal to go for lunch together in between lectures, but a lonesome soul listening to the vivid chatter only settled for a cup of coffee since the stomach could possibly not handle more because of the all-nighter working on the next chapter of the attempted novel and composing a few more poems for a to-be-published-someday poetry bundle.

A chip off the old block, taking after the grandfather who raised a timid girl to become like this: full of too many voices and writing them down since that is the only acceptable form of schizophrenia in today’s society. Fortunately, it is while enjoying the company of Dante, a Birman with hellishly blue eyes of an extremely distrustful and arrogant nature except when being with an aspiring author rivalling with a relative. He mostly lies on the duvet on nights filled with the self-inflicted torture of bleeding behind a typewriter, occasionally jumping on the desk beneath the attic window where often a raven nicknamed Edgar settles down and demanding to be pet whenever a repose is taken for a glass o’ Irish whiskey when threatening to fall on hard creative times. Otherwise, dirty bean water is grand as well. Whatever the case, Dante conveniently though perfectly times it each time.

In the meanwhile, Virgil is likely functioning as company for Charles, who is also known as “Grandfather” during formal events of which most relate to publishing houses and to which he always has to be dragged while muttering unintelligible Gaelic profanities. Alternatively, it is the first full name whenever competing with one another or simply “Charlie” when the old balding man with a snow white moustache reviews the latest result of typing on the historic sidekick of every author. According to the in-house editor and occasional enemy, a typewriter is the sole source of ‘’pure writing’’ and imprinted the habit of working with the old school machine as soon as hands were able to write the letters formerly merely read in books.

For those unfamiliar with the cats, it is impossible to draw a distinction between the two, but those who look closer notice that Virgil does not share the same eye colour with his brother, the ocean grey betraying the fact the fluffy bastard is indeed that.

A bastard.

Exactly like his owner and the owner’s granddaughter who was also born out of wedlock.

However, even in Dante there is a trace of being not a full blood Birman since his slender skull hints at a Ragdoll influence though the selective sweetheart would never admit to it even if the ability of speech had been given to cats.

All in all, all of us are outcasts so it has become the running joke beneath the roof of the outskirts mansion we are glorious bastards. Honestly speaking, it has a nice ring to it because if being separated from others for whatever reason counts as a qualification for becoming this, then the lack of pals in primary and high school is not minded. The same goes for the adoption by a loving howbeit harshly critical grandfather because the son who should have been a proper father could not bear the sight of the offspring originating in a scandalous affair with a secretary who had no mother instinct at all, thus sharing in the shallowness with her one-time lover.

Whiskey story nights filled with almost empty pens, digits stained with ink, reading breaks and lots of swearing in frustration or joy have come to form a steady aspect of life, Charlie clearly in a better mood when settling down to shape the rough paper diamonds in each other’s company despite the exchange of insults pertaining to manuscripts or in a loving manner. An Irishman can leave Ireland, but the Irishness will never leave the individual and the island tales that at times seem mere fantastic fancies create a bond with a heritage that would otherwise have never been known.

It is because of Charles, his upbringing that has not been without it struggles, and Dante and Virgil I am still here, exerting power as an author on the Internet after creating a manuscript on the typewriter that once belonged to the moustached man’s close American friend who, too, had a taste for liquor and a talent for writing.

Apparently, one night at a party, this comrade was hit in the face by a drunken accountant who tried his hand at poetry nobody understood and insulted the boxer’s manhood, causing the offended party to strike the provoker down in drunken rage. Fortunately for the injured, the American was willing to forgive the insult after being offered an apology and the next day the papers reported the incomprehensible poet fell down the stairs, the accident resulting in a broken hip alongside other injuries, thus covering up the truth of being beaten black and blue.

When asking why nothing was done to stop the fight from escalating, the answer is always the same. ‘It was too much fun to see that idiotic sod being beaten up. Furthermore, he had it coming sooner or later because he was a fecking racist prick, Y/N. It was more of a service than a true crime.’

Basically, Granddad sat back with a bowl of popcorn and cheered his boxing buddy on.

Truly a gentleman bastard.

As proves to be an inherent characteristic, judging by the rage coming from the classically furnished writing room on the east side of the house bought with the royalties from writing pieces critical of the human condition and problems rooted in society under the guise of a cleverly composed story. ‘Virgil! For fuck’s sake, ye bloody gobshite!’

‘Charlie, how’s she cuttin’?’ Not so well, judging by the look of pure horror in fast passing stone-toned irises with elated pupils framed by deep earthy brown fur and liquid onyx paw prints creating a trail on the freshly mopped floor. What a way to leave the house before facing the horror of being left alone at the university because everyone has been placed in a different time slot. ‘Although, never mind.’

In the faux leather spinning chair behind the intricately designed baroque desk, agitated calloused fingers run through pale thin hairs while lips are pulled into a snarl at the sight of the obsidian pool of ink staining the pile of blank pages meant to be engraved with poetry. ‘Well, this is just fucking grand, isn’t it?’

‘Think about your blood pressure, ye aren’t all that spry anymore and your fans will not like it if you kick the bucket already.’ Grinning like the purple cat in the favourite story to listen to while sitting by the hearth during childhood, dark flats wander the afromosia floor to the stout big man with an irritated iron gaze that slightly softens at the sight of the lass raised as a daughter rather than a granddaughter, the pupil who has turned more and more into a peer as time went by. ‘And Virgil isn’t as graceful as Dante, prone to causing accidents yet you love him all the same.’

‘Ah, feck off.’ An eyebrow raises in question when settling down into the fauteuil in front of the bureau, casually crossing one leg over the other and endeavouring to suppress the pressing yawns as best as possible. ‘It’s yer first day of university after a week of being a dosser and you pulled an all-nighter while having to show up early. You’re not the full shilling, are ye?’

‘No. No, I’m not, but you are what you eat. I’m fine, Charlie. And I worked on a couple of poems, mind you, and also wrote two more chapters for Paper Wonderland. Furthermore, I read ahead for this block’s course so, overall, I’ve been productive.’

‘You haven’t been until I’ve seen the first drafts.’ It is a house rule: there are no actual original versions of a part of a tale unless the stern editor has seen it and given feedback. Otherwise, it is nothing more than stained paper.

‘Oi, I want to keep some element of surprise to blow you off yer socks when you read the full result. Where’s the fun in being spoiled beforehand when it can become the reason I’ll finally conquer the throne you’re currently sitting on. One day, one day I’ll finally be recognized as more than mere family.’

The mentor stands up to walk around the chaotically ruined heavy piece of furniture to put an encouraging hand on the shoulder and give it a little encouraging squeeze, which gets nullified by a comment that makes the characteristic need for rivalry flare up. ‘Keep dreaming about that day, ye wee chiseler, and maybe, just maybe you’ll manage.’

A sarcastic mirthless chuckle functions as a nullifying factor for the elder’s smugness while standing up from the oddly comfortable espresso brown chair to head for the door. ‘You really like throwing shapes, don’t ye, gramps?’

‘As much as any grand man.’ The old great man matches the pace to the young feet eventually coming to a halt at the entrance of the writing office.

At the double doors, on the edge of a casual temporary farewell, all devilishness fades away into fatherly concern due to the realization a difficult social challenge has to be faced, having had many conversations about the introverted anxiety of a mask-wearing lass who merely acts like a young professional while working as a barista to earn a little cash on the side. ‘Take that puss off yer face, Y/N. You’re gonna be grand because you’re a full-grown woman with an Irish background. We’re tough people made of iron who don’t take anyone’s intimidation.’

Two big wrinkled hands wrap themselves around upper arms clad in a neatly-ironed alabaster collared shirt as a moustached mouth places a familial hope-giving smooch on the forehead before giving the right cheek a weak playful slap. ‘Now, go, you fine thing. Maybe you’ll catch the eye of a proper laddie.’

‘Feck off.’ A playful punch on the shoulder undoes the intimacy and grants the opportunity to crack on to catch the bus towards doom after putting on a khaki trench coat and slinging the stone-grey laptop bag over the shoulder.

‘I don’t recommend effin’ and blindin’, though. Tends to give a bad image,’ is the last piece of laughingly uttered advice which is seemingly also disregarded howbeit with an absently-minded waving hand wandering down the sandstone cobblestone path towards the main road.

And before taking an immediate right out of the gate towards the nearest bus stop, the other one holds the habitual saviour in the form of a book already.

An opportunity to escape the nervousness brought about by cruel reality that is taken away when bumping into someone, an accident which still tends to happen despite the mastery of avoidance skills, and the account of the life of a bookseller falls onto the concrete.

Eyes as big as a doe’s when caught in the headlights of a rapidly approaching car stare in horror at annoyed molten chocolate irises above an admittedly adorable big nose, irritated by an ignorant daydreamer under the constant scrutiny of the world, which quickly gain a weird gentleness when truly looking back. ‘I’m so, so fe- sorry. I should watch where- no, watch my footing. Again, I’m so sorry.’

Please, don’t get mad. Grand job, Y/N. The day’s barely begun and you already messed up.

‘It’s alright.’ Bleached short locks clad in an onyx leather jacket squat down to pick up the paperback on the ground, long pale fingers dusting off the little dirt the impact of the fall has caused to stain the cover before handing it back. ‘You dropped this.’

Trembling hands accept a small piece of peace of mind, gaze averted from the small fading kind smile on the young man’s face to stare with burning cheeks and a raving heart at dark flats aching to flee the situation. ‘Thanks.’

‘Miss? Are you alright?’ The lost distant type of contact from just a second ago is futilely tried to be re-established, unable to connect thus to a soul with a thousand voices within now all rendered to a flustered whisper.

‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll- I need to go. Don’t want to miss the bus.’ A curt nod ends the conversation abruptly, turning away as fast as lightning while muttering a form of apologetic goodbye as the walking pace enhances to a speed barely shy of running. ‘Again, my apologies.’

However, as Fate or mere coincidence would have it, this meeting is not the last as tracks are silently retraced by foreign sneakers as blasting songs from various genres disclose the world from a never tranquil consciousness.

A few minutes more the blissful unknowing continues, reading irises stuck in the sceptic description of a man able to do what wants to be done in case becoming a writer does not work out.

A few minutes more the wind has the possibility to play freely with locks without it being noticed nor minded.

Then all changes with the approach of the awaited vehicle.

The loudness comes back with the bus.

And an ink-black leather jacket.

#Kpopwonderlandtag #Stray Kids #SKZ #Stray Kids x Reader #Stray Kids fanfiction #Bangchan #Bang Chan #Chan #Chris Bang

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optimisticsprinkles · 6 years

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Best Blocking Practices

I sometimes randomly block people on social media, people I have zero chance of interacting with, because I stumble across them saying something that shows they are not a person I ever want to encounter. I could reply to them and start an uncomfortable conversation, or I could block them and forget they exist. I always choose the latter, because I’d rather draw cats with my kid than argue with strangers on the internet. My kid is much better company. (Also, I can time him out if he gets obnoxious, and that’s harder to do with strangers on the internet.)

Today, it was someone who said extroverts don’t give a s--- about people who don’t want to spend time with them. The image she commented on was an octopus holding the legs of a diver as the diver tried to climb out of the water; the text joked about how the diver was introverts trying to leave a party and the octopus was their extrovert friends. Not only did this person have to ignore the word “friends,” but she had to assume that the only reason anyone would want to leave a social gathering would be if they hate and/or don’t care about the other people there, making an assumption about introverts that is blatantly not true and deeply offensive.

The difference between introverts and extroverts isn’t about the level of caring, it’s about how we gain and lose energy in social situations. As an introvert, being social drains me. I like being social with my friends and family, but I need solitude to recover afterward. Extroverts are the opposite. They gain energy by interacting with people. This means, logically, that extroverts can stay longer at social gatherings than introverts can, because extroverts are being filled with energy while introverts are drained. It has nothing to do with anyone’s feelings for anyone else and everything to do with physical and mental exhaustion.

That is why the image was funny and resonated.

And that is why I wanted to punch that bitch.

But I blocked her without a word instead, and that will suffice.

Another time I blocked someone, months ago, it was on Twitter. Someone tweeted a joke that other people had previously tweeted; they’d merely thought up the same joke separately, and a woman jokingly said in the comments that “Mediocre minds think alike.” It was rude and unnecessary, and I don’t like stumbling across humor that relies on belittling others. I blocked her.

I’m also likely to block people I see attacking other writers for things like “your character did this, so you must be like that, too.” Even if I don’t have things to be harassed about, myself, I am still afraid of those people because they have proven that they are willing to harass writers rather than ask pertinent questions like civil human beings. Questions like, “Your character is like this, how do you personally feel about their actions?” Or “Why did you make this or that choice in your story?” Or “You write about X quite a bit, out of curiosity can I ask why that is?”

I am doubly likely to block such people if they treat anyone who challenges their assumptions as “the enemy.” There is no point in attempting rational discussion when everything you say makes the other person a martyr.

I have not been harassed in years, likely because I don’t seek out conflict. I block instead of engage with random comments like the examples above because some people just want to stir their rage to life. It’s something to do, and feeling superior is fun. There is no point for me to engage except to make myself equally angry; getting angry might have been appealing a decade ago, but I’m too old for that now. When I’m tempted to engage these days, I shut my laptop and play with my kids to remind myself of my priorities and how little I care about offensive strangers on the internet (beyond wanting to avoid them).

The only thing that will automatically, without fail, get me to block and report someone is if they say something about my kids. This has not happened, but we’re on the internet. It might some day. And I will report the shit out of that. I don’t have to explain why. Y’all are reasonable people. You get it.

But I still don’t think I’d use the nuclear option, which would be to make something like that public. I’m morally opposed to how extreme online bullying can get for people who say something they shouldn’t. What if it’s a young idiot whose life gets ruined for their big stupid mouth? What if they get doxxed? Doxxing scares me. Even the worst people imaginable don’t deserve to have their information spread to the psychos you find online. Authorities, sure. Employers in some cases. But the internet? Stalkers, death threats, rape threats, harassment, verbal violence, hate mail both electronic and physical? No. No, I will always choose not to put anyone in that hell. Proper channels are better and more likely to match the punishment to the crime. Internet justice almost always gets out of hand, and I am not okay with that.

TL;DR - I block offensive people instead of arguing with them. Then I go play with my kids to cheer up.

#personal #social media

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winters-hysteria · 2 years

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Hi!! Can I please get a ship?

I'm fairly introverted and it takes me a while to warm up to people. I love reading, my room is filled with stacks of books. I especially enjoy true crime, poetry and Russian literature!I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, joking around and having indepth discussions on anything and everything. I love helping out and people come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'd consider myself really smart and I'm very ambitious; I love being the best at everything I do. I daydream a lot and I'm a hopeless romantic! I enjoy all forms of art and I have quite a few creative hobbies! I'm 5'9 and I have long curly, dark brown hair and brown eyes. I dress mostly in relaxed suits, blazers and coats and I love the occasional dress or sweaters layered over a white button down!

Thank you very much!!

alright! hello!

so lets get right into it.

I personally think your Stranger Things girlfriend would be Max.

as we all know, max feels a TON of guilt over billy's death, and this is what vecna uses against her. she also has a ton of awful recurring nightmares about his death.

i feel like she'd come to you at the asscrack of dawn after having a nightmare (you both live in the trailer park pretty close) and since you leave your door unlocked (or if u feel unsafe she has a key) and rushes in, collapsing into you since you had been up making a snack to eat while you read. just falls into you, tears staining your oversized t-shirt while you hold her, processing what just happened. it takes you about five seconds before you're holding tightly onto her, comforting her and rubbing her back while she sobs into your shoulder. after several minutes, once she's calmed down enough that you can talk to her and have her come lie down on your bed, you turn the tv on to a kid's station because it's probably more comforting than the news, and you turn off the lights, come lie down next to her, and read aloud from your favorite book to soothe her to sleep.

but on another note, she likes to be the subject of most of your art, always willing to sit poised for a while so you can draw/paint/whatever her. she also likes to cuddle up to your chest and lay there, listening to you read aloud your favorite Russian story as she drifts off (it just sounds pretty to her, she doesn't really understand it.)

you two met when she was out skating along your path. she did a double take when she saw you wearing a dark-hued suit, but looking comfortable, and nearly fell off her skateboard. you noticed and decided to say hi to her, which nearly caused her to fall off AGAIN. you giggled at her, and she basically thought it was one of the cutest things ever. she started coming around to your place more and more, and eventually she made the first move while you were rambling about a cold case you couldn't stop thinking of, and she was just *staring* at your lips. before she realised what she was doing, she leaned over and kissed you.

it took you a looooong time to stop blushing about that btw

i also think she would love your style and continuously steal your sweaters even if other ppl looked at y'alls weird

i think your Stranger Things boyfriend would be Eddie.

i think he'd need a ton of comforting bc jason the dickbag won't leave him alone

he also overthinks a ton because the whole school save the Hellfire club hates him so he needs lots of physical attention and love and tlc and if you dont husband him i will.

i think he'd like to fall asleep sitting in your room with you as you play with his loooong hair and talk to him about your day or your current hyperfixation.

at some point you just realised he became unresponsive so you panicked, but then you looked down and found him with one arm wrapped around your thigh, head resting, legs curled and softly snoring. you just kinda felt your heart melt and you kept playing with his hair and singing softly

now this is after he got mauled by demo bats (but didnt die)

he'll have horrible horrible nightmares about this, and this is why your parents usually walk in to eddie sleeping curled up tightly against you and your arms around him, and they just *know* and so they leave y'all alone and go make breakfast or something

the second eddie smells coffee he is UP

oh, also. he would absolutely ADORE your style, and would buy you ties and shit for ur birthday, but would definitely make you wear a hellfire t-shirt to the meetings or he'd pout >:(

he always convinces you to draw/paint him (idk how)

and one time, to surprise him, you took the hellfire club member picture off the wall and painted a larger, cooler version of it with everyone as their character and hung it back up. but in the meantime, eddie was freaking the fuck out cause he didnt know where it went :(

but when you hung it back up, he lost it. genuinely couldn't speak for a few minutes, and that is the only time the whole collective hellfire club has seen their dungeon master cry.

he definitely plays his guitar for you like all the time, and you've sketched him when he really gets into it and doesn't notice and then after he's all " >:0 how did you do that without me noticing!!!" and attacks you with kisses

he may be a guitarist but this man sucks at drawing

he tried to draw you once and it was just a stick figure with curly lines and you laughed at him for HOURS

so i think he noticed you in school one day as u were eating pb&j and reading a book, and ever since had tried desperately to get your attention only for you to just shy away more until he tried 1 on 1 attention and you two sort of clicked tho it took a while for you to really like him as you were really wary

so i'm eventually going to do your harry potter ships, but there was just so much to write here that my hands are tired lol

hope you like it!

gifs are not mine

reblogs are appreciated, but do not steal my work <3

ty for the request, ily!!!

DRINK WATER.

#anon ask #7 up tag #7-up tag #anon request #anon <3 #answered #ask me #anon answered #ty for the request!#stranger things x reader

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psquarescents · 3 years

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mbtizone · 7 years

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Eddard "Ned" Stark (Game of Thrones): ISTJ

Dominant Introverted Sensing [Si]: Ned is traditional and abides by established rules and customs. The king asked Ned to be his hand, so he must serve, even if that means leaving his wife and most of his children behind. It’s his duty and he’s loyal to Robert. Sansa’s remark about giving Joffrey golden-haired children gets Ned thinking, so he consults the records for the Baratheon family… all black of hair, indicating that this gene is dominant. This leads Ned to the belief that Robert’s children aren’t actually his. When Ned comes to the conclusion that Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella are actually Jaime’s and not Robert’s, he is unwilling to allow Joffrey to become king, because he’s not the true king. The crown should pass to Stannis, because that’s how it’s supposed to be. That’s the way it works. He’s the rightful heir, no “buts” about it. Ned is horrified to learn how much debt the kingdom is in. How could they all let that happen?! It’s irresponsible to have tournaments we can’t pay for when the kingdom owes so much money. Ned always wants to do things by the book, which often gets him into trouble, because he’s typically surrounded with schemers who will do whatever it takes to further their own agendas. Although he eventually comes around, Ned wants Arya to be a lady and stop playing with swords because she’s supposed to grow up, marry a lord and rule his castle. She can’t be a lord of holdfast. She’s a girl. The only thing that’s more important to Ned than his honor is his family. He is willing to die for his honor until Varys forces him to think about what will happen to his daughters if he doesn’t tell Cersei what she needs to hear. He’s unwilling to trade his honor for his life, but eventually decides that Sansa’s life is worth more to him than his honor. Ned trusts his own senses and only believes in what he can see or hear. He doesn’t believe the deserter’s story about the White Walkers, writing him off as mad. Ned uses his past experiences to make decisions in the present. He doesn’t trust Jorah’s word about Daenerys because Jorah’s a criminal. He’s not concerned with the Dothraki because they’ve never crossed the sea before. Why should he fear them?

Auxiliary Extroverted Thinking [Te]: As lord of Winterfell, Ned is often tasked with making decisions and he’s very good at leaving his emotions out of it. He beheads the deserter because what he did was against the rules and had to be done. Ned is responsible, practical, and he has respect for the chain of command. When he is charged with taking Robert’s place on the throne after he goes on a hunting trip, he decides to have Ser Gregor Clegane stripped of his titles, his land, and sentences him to death, a very drastic action. He also demands that Tywin Lannister presents himself in court to answer for the crimes of his bannermen. Ned cares about the facts of a situation. The Dothraki won’t cross the Narrow Sea. They don’t have any ships! All they have are horses and they’re not going to get the Dothraki across the water. Ned is comfortable with giving orders and commanding men. He instructs his men to take Cersei and Joffrey into custody, a very bold move, which doesn’t exactly pan out the way Ned had hoped. Ned needs proof before acting. He’s not going to have a girl killed based on gossip. He needs concrete evidence before making a move. Ned cares very much about rules and laws, and is quick to enforce them when necessary. He believes that “the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.” He doesn’t enjoy killing, but it’s his responsibility. It needs to be done.

Tertiary Introverted Feeling [Fi]: His values and his honor are everything to Ned. He always tries to do the “right” thing, no matter what the consequences. It’s wrong for Robert to have Daenerys killed. She’s practically a child. If you go through with this, you will lose your honor forever. Ned refuses to trust the word of those who he feels lack honor. He doesn’t believe what Jorah Mormont says because he’s a traitor. He won’t kill a girl based on what he says. “He broke the law, betrayed his family, fled our land. We commit murder on the word of this man?” Ned won’t be part of what Robert’s planning to do. He’s disappointed in Robert because he thought he was better than that. He used to be better than that. The Robert in front of him now is not the same Robert he once knew (Si-Fi). Ned confronts Cersei when he learns the truth about her children and refuses to accept Joffrey as the rightful king. When he finds out the truth, he knows that he must inform Robert, but he doesn’t want to endanger the lives of the children, and decides to warn Cersei to flee before he returns. Ned will not dishonor Robert’s last moments on Earth by “shedding blood in his halls and dragging frightened children from their beds.” Ned doesn’t typically discuss his feelings openly. He tends to keep things to himself and his morality comes from within. Nobody can tell Ned what’s right except Ned. Even though Ser Barristan is being tasked with taking Ned into custody, Ned doesn’t want his men to harm him because he’s good and loyal. He doesn’t trust Varys because he did nothing while Ned was being taken in. He just stood there. Even though Varys had no weapon, no armor, and isn’t a fighter by nature, he still should’ve done something.

Inferior Extroverted Intuition [Ne]: Because Ned tends to take things as they are, he can sometimes have trouble deciphering true motivations and intentions. He doesn’t anticipate that Littlefinger will betray him, and attempts to have Cersei and Joffrey taken in under guard, not realizing that people have been conspiring behind his back. When questioned as to why he would do something so foolish as to confront Cersei, he believed that she would give in to keep her children safe, but he was unable to foresee that she would refuse to surrender. He has trouble seeing the bigger picture, which usually leaves him uncertain in his conversations with intuitive types, such as Littlefinger and Varys.

Enneagram: 1w9 6w5 2w1 Sp/So

Quotes:

Ned: You understand why I did it? Bran: Jon said he was a deserter. Ned: But do you understand why I had to kill him? Bran: “Our way is the old way”? Ned: The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

Ned: I will not believe Jon Arryn allowed Robert to bankrupt the realm. Pycelle: Lord Arryn gave wise and prudent advice, but I fear His Grace doesn’t always listen.

Ned: This tournament is an extravagance we cannot afford. Littlefinger: As you will. But still, we’d best make our plans. Ned: There will be no plans… until I speak to Robert. Forgive me, my lords. I’m… I had a long ride. Varys: You are the King’s Hand, Lord Stark. We serve at your pleasure.

Robert: Are you as good with a spear as you used to be? Ned: No, but I’m still better than you. Robert: I know what I’m putting you through. Thank you for saying yes. I only ask you because I need you. You’re a loyal friend. You hear me? A loyal friend. The last one I’ve got. Ned: I hope I’ll serve you well. Robert: You will. And I’ll make sure you don’t look so fucking grim all the time. Come on, boys, let’s go kill some boar!

Ned: This is no toy. Little ladies shouldn’t play with swords. Arya: I wasn’t playing. And I don’t want to be a lady. Ned: Come here. Now what do you want with this? Arya: It’s called Needle. Ned: Oh, a blade with a name. And who were you hoping to skewer with Needle? Your sister? Do you know the first thing about sword fighting? Arya: Stick ’em with the pointy end. Ned: That’s the essence of it. Arya: I was trying to learn. I asked Mycah to practice with me. I asked him. It was my fault. Ned: No, sweet girl. No, no, you didn’t kill the butcher’s boy. Arya: I hate them. I hate all of them. The Hound, the queen and the king and Joffrey and Sansa. Ned: Sansa was dragged before the king and queen… and asked to call the prince a liar. Arya: So was I! He is a liar. Ned: Shh, darling, listen to me. Sansa will be married to Joffrey someday. She cannot betray him. She must take his side even when he’s wrong. Arya: But how you can let her marry someone like that? Ned: Look at me. You’re a Stark of Winterfell. You know our words. Arya: Winter is coming. Ned: You were born in the long summer. You’ve never known anything else. But now winter is truly coming. And in the winter, we must protect ourselves, look after one another. Sansa is your sister. Arya: I don’t hate her. Not really. Ned: I don’t want to frighten you, but I won’t lie to you either. We’ve come to a dangerous place. We cannot fight a war amongst ourselves. All right? Go on. It’s yours. Arya: I can keep it? Ned: Try not to stab your sister with it. If you’re going to own a sword, you’d better know how to use it.

Catelyn: I know they did it, Ned. The Lannisters. In my bones, I know it. Ned: Littlefinger’s right. I can’t do anything without proof. Catelyn: And if you find the proof? Ned: Then I bring it to Robert… and hope he’s still the man I once knew. You watch yourself on the road, huh? That temper of yours is a dangerous thing. Catelyn: My temper? Gods be good, you nearly killed poor Littlefinger yesterday. Ned: He still loves you. Catelyn: Does he?

Arya: Can I be lord of a holdfast? Ned: You will marry a high lord and rule his castle. And your sons shall be knights and princes and lords. Hmm? Arya: No. That’s not me.

Ned: Daenerys Targaryen has wed some Dothraki horselord. What of it? Should we send her a wedding gift? Robert: A knife, perhaps. A good sharp one, and a bold man to wield it. Ned: She’s little more than a child. Robert: Soon enough that child will spread her legs and start breeding. Ned: Tell me we’re not speaking of this. Robert: Oh, it’s unspeakable to you? What her father did to your family… that was unspeakable. What Rhaegar Targaryen did to your sister… the woman I loved. I’ll kill every Targaryen I get my hands on. Ned: But you can’t get your hands on this one, can you? Robert: This Khal Drogo, it’s said he has 100,000 men in his horde. Ned: Even a million Dothraki are no threat to the realm, as long as they remain on the other side of the Narrow Sea. They have no ships, Robert! Robert: There are still those in the Seven Kingdoms who call me Usurper. If the Targaryen boy crosses with a Dothraki horde at his back, the scum will join him. Ned: He will not cross! And if by chance he does, we’ll throw him back into the sea. Robert: There’s a war coming, Ned. I don’t know when, I don’t know who we’ll be fighting, but it’s coming.

Robert: The whore is pregnant. Ned: You’re speaking of murdering a child. Robert: I warned you this would happen, back in the North. I warned you, but you didn’t care to hear. Well, hear it now. I want ’em dead, mother and child both. And that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them both dead. Ned: You will dishonour yourself forever if you do this. Robert: Honour?! I’ve got seven kingdoms to rule! One king, seven kingdoms. Do you think honour keeps them in line? Do you think it’s honour that’s keeping the peace? It’s fear- fear and blood. Ned: Then we’re no better than the Mad King. Robert: Careful, Ned. Careful now. Ned: You want to assassinate a girl because the spider heard a rumour? Varys: No rumour, my lord. The princess is with child. Ned: Based on whose information? Varys: Ser Jorah Mormont. He is serving as advisor to the Targaryens. Ned: Mormont? You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact? Littlefinger: Jorah Mormont’s a slaver, not a traitor. Small difference, I know, to an honourable man. Ned: He broke the law, betrayed his family, fled our land. We commit murder on the word of this man? Robert: And if he’s right? If she has a son? A Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki army what then? Ned: The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I’ll fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water. Robert: Do nothing? That’s your wise advice? Do nothing till our enemies are on our shores? You’re my council. Counsel! Speak sense to this honourable fool. Varys: I understand your misgivings, my lord. Truly, I do. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule must sometimes do vile things for the good of the realm. Should the gods grant Daenerys a son, the realm will bleed. Pycelle: I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now so that tens of thousands might live? Renly: We should have had them both killed years ago. Littlefinger: When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes, get it over with. Cut her throat. Be done with it. Ned: I followed you into war… twice, without doubts, without second thoughts. But I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn’t tremble at the shadow of an unborn child. Robert: She dies. Ned: I will have no part in it. Robert: You’re the King’s Hand, Lord Stark. You’ll do as I command or I’ll find me a Hand who will. Ned: And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man. Robert: Out. Out, damn you. I’m done with you. Go, run back to Winterfell! I’ll have your head on a spike! I’ll put it there myself, you fool! You think you’re too good for this? Too proud and honourable? This is a war!

Joss: They burned most everything in the Riverlands – our fields, our granaries, our homes. They took our women, and then they took ‘em again. When they was done, they butchered them as if they was animals. They covered our children in pitch, and lit them on fire. Pycelle: Brigands, most likely. Joss: They weren’t thieves, they didn’t steal nothing. They even left something behind, your Grace. Pycelle: It’s the King’s Hand you’re addressing, not the king. The king is hunting. [Another man comes forward with a large bag. He dumps the contents out, and they are revealed to be a pile of dead fish.] Littlefinger: Fish. The sigil of House Tully. [to Ned, whispering] Isn’t that your wife’s House – Tully – my Lord Hand? [Pycelle looks at Ned expectantly.] Ned: These men, were they flying a sigil? [Joss looks confused.] Ned: A banner. Joss: None, your…. Hand. The one who was leading them – taller by a foot than any man I’ve ever met. Saw him cut the blacksmith in two, saw him take the head off a horse with a single swing of his sword. Littlefinger: [to Ned, whispering] That sounds like someone we know – the Mountain. Ned: You’re describing Ser Gregor Clegane. Pycelle: Why should Ser Gregor turn brigand? The man is an anointed knight. Littlefinger: [to Pycelle] I’ve heard him called “Tywin Lannister’s mad dog.” I’m sure you have as well. [to Ned, whispering] Can you think of any reason the Lannisters might possibly have for being angry with your wife? Pycelle: If the Lannisters were to order attacks on villages under the king’s protection, it would be – Littlefinger: That would be almost as brazen as attacking the Hand of the King in the streets of the capital. Pycelle: Well… [Ned thinks for a moment.] Ned: I cannot give you back your homes or restore your dead to life. But perhaps I can give you justice in the name of our king, Robert. Lord Beric Dondarrion. [Beric Dondarrion steps forward.] Ned: You shall have the command. Assemble one hundred men and ride to Ser Gregor’s keep. Beric: As you command. [Ned stands up, and we see he is now using a cane to walk due to the injury to his leg.] Ned: In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I charge you to bring the king’s justice to the false knight Gregor Clegane and all those who shared in his crimes. I denounce him and attaint him. [Beric nods. The other peasants murmur amongst themselves.] Ned: I strip him of all ranks and titles, of all lands and holdings, and sentence him to death. [Pycelle stands up.] Pycelle: My lord, this….this is a drastic action. It would be better to wait for King Robert’s return. Ned: Grand Maester Pycelle. Pycelle: My Lord? Ned: Send a raven to Casterly Rock. Inform Tywin Lannister that he has been summoned to court to answer for the crimes of his bannermen. He will arrive within the fortnight, or be branded an enemy of the crown and a traitor to the realm. [The murmuring continues. Ned dismisses the host, and both Beric and Joss bow. Ned slowly leaves the throne, and is followed by Littlefinger, while Pycelle watches from afar, looking somewhat worried.] Littlefinger: A bold move, my Lord, and admirable. But is it wise to yank the lion’s tail? Tywin Lannister is the richest man in all the Seven Kingdoms. Gold wins wars, not soldiers. Ned: Then how come Robert is king and not Tywin Lannister?

Sansa: He’ll be the greatest king that ever was, a golden lion, and I’ll give him sons with beautiful blonde hair! [Ned does a double take when Sansa says ‘beautiful blond hair’.] Arya: The lion’s not his sigil, idiot. He’s a stag, like his father. Sansa: He is not. He’s nothing like that old drunk king! [Pause while Ned seems lost in thought.] Ned: Go on, girls. Get your septa and start packing your things. Sansa: Wait! Arya: [to Sansa] Come on! [She begins dragging Sansa out of the room.] Sansa: But it’s not fair! [The two exit Ned’s room and close the door behind them. Ned slowly makes his way over to his desk, opening the book of lineages given to him by Grand Maester Pycelle. He turns to House Baratheon’s page.] Ned: [reading] “Lord Orys Baratheon, black of hair. Axel Baratheon, black of hair. Lyonel Baratheon, black of hair. Steffon Baratheon, black of hair. Robert Baratheon, black of hair. Joffrey Baratheon… golden-haired.” [Ned thinks for a moment before a look of shocked realization comes across his face as he closes the book.]

Cersei: You’re in pain. [Ned uses his cane to slowly stand.] Ned: I’ve had worse, my lady. Cersei: Perhaps it’s time to go home. The South doesn’t seem to agree with you. Ned: I know the truth Jon Arryn died for. Cersei: Do you, Lord Stark? Is that why you called me here, to pose me riddles? [Ned notices the bruise still on Cersei’s cheek.] Ned: Has he done this before? [He indicates the bruise.] Cersei: Jaime would have killed him. My brother is worth a thousand of your friend. Ned: [accusing] Your brother… or your lover? [Cersei realizes the implication Ned is making and smirks. Ned realizes he’s right.] Cersei: [proudly] The Targaryens wed brothers and sisters for 300 years to keep bloodlines pure. Jaime and I are more than brother and sister. We shared a womb. We came into this world together. We belong together. Ned: [still accusing] My son saw you with him. [Long pause. Cersei regards Ned shrewdly.] Cersei: Do you love your children? Ned: With all my heart. Cersei: No more than I love mine. Ned: And they’re all Jaime’s. [Cersei laughs.] Cersei: Thank the Gods. In the rare event that Robert leaves his whores for long enough to stumble drunk into my bed, I finish him off in other ways. In the morning, he doesn’t remember. Ned: You’ve always hated him…. Cersei: Hated him? I worshiped him! Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms dreamed of him, but he was mine by oath. And when I finally saw him on our wedding day in the Sept of Baelor, lean and fierce and black-bearded, it was the happiest moment of my life. Then that night he crawled on top of me, stinking of wine and did what he did, what little he could do, and whispered in my ear, “Lyanna”. Your sister was a corpse and I was a living girl and he loved her more than me. Ned: When the King returns from his hunt, I’ll tell him the truth. You must be gone by then – you and your children. I will not have their blood on my hands. Go as far away as you can, with as many men as you can. Because wherever you go, Robert’s wrath will follow you. Cersei: And what of my wrath, Lord Stark? You should have taken the realm for yourself. Jaime told me about the day King’s Landing fell: he was sitting in the Iron Throne and you made him give it up. All you needed to do was climb the steps yourself. Such a sad mistake. Ned: I’ve made many mistakes in my life, but that wasn’t one of them. Cersei: Oh, but it was. When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.

Robert: Paper and ink on the table, write down what I say. [Ned grabs the paper and quill and begins writing.] “In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, first of…” you know how it goes. Fill in the damn titles. [Ned does so.] “I hereby command Eddard of House Stark” – titles, titles – “to serve as Lord Regent and Protector of the Realm upon my death to rule in my stead, until my son Joffrey comes of age”. [Ned hesitates, then writes “my rightful heir” instead.] Robert: Give it over. [Ned does so. Robert puts his signature down on the letter before handing it back.] Give it to the council after I’m dead. At least they’ll say I did this right, this one thing. You’ll rule now. You’ll hate it worse than I did, but you’ll do it well. The girl – Daenerys. You were right. Varys, Littlefinger, my brother – worthless. No one to tell me “no” but you. Only you. Let her live. Stop it, if it’s not too late. Ned: I will. Robert: And my son… help him, Ned. Make him better than me. Ned: I’ll… I’ll do everything I can to honor your memory. Robert: My memory? [He laughs feebly.] King Robert Baratheon, murdered by a pig…. [He laughs feebly again. Ned watches him sadly.] Give me something for the pain and let me die.

Renly: He named you Protector of the Realm. Ned: He did. Renly: [talking about Cersei, with contempt] She won’t care. Give me an hour and I can put a hundred swords at your command. Ned: And what should I do with a hundred swords? Renly: [obviously] Strike! Tonight while the castle sleeps. We must get Joffrey away from his mother and into our custody. Protector of the Realm or no, he who holds the King holds the Kingdom. Every moment you delay gives Cersei another moment to prepare. By the time Robert dies, it will be too late for the both of us. Ned: What about Stannis? Renly: Saving the Seven Kingdoms from Cersei and delivering them to Stannis? You have odd notions about protecting the realm. [Ned looks frustrated.] Ned: [somewhat sternly] Stannis is your older brother. Renly: [urging] This isn’t about the bloody line of succession! That didn’t matter when you rebelled against the Mad King; it shouldn’t matter now. [Ned is slowly realizing what Renly is getting at.] What’s best for the Kingdoms? What’s best for the people we rule? We all know what Stannis is. He inspires no love or loyalty. He’s not a King. I am. [Ned looks surprised. Renly stares at him expectantly.] Ned: [losing his patience] Stannis is a commander. [Renly looks frustrated that Ned isn’t listening to reason.] He’s led men into war twice. He destroyed the Greyjoy fleet. Renly: Yes, he’s a good soldier; everyone knows that. So was Robert. Tell me something: Do you still believe good soldiers make good kings? [Ned is at a loss for words. Renly regards him shrewdly as he thinks for a moment.] Ned: I will not dishonor Robert’s last hours by shedding blood in his halls and dragging frightened children from their beds. [Ned walks off, leaving Renly looking agitated.]

Ned: The King has no true born sons. Joffrey and Tommen are Jaime Lannister’s bastards. Littlefinger: So when the King dies… Ned: The throne passes to his brother, Lord Stannis. [Littlefinger begins pacing around the office.] Littlefinger: So it would seem. Unless- Ned: There is no “unless”. He is the rightful heir. Nothing can change that. Littlefinger: And he cannot take the throne without your help; you would be wise to deny it to him and to make sure Joffrey succeeds. [Pause while Ned regards Littlefinger with disgust.] Ned: Do you have a shred of honor? Littlefinger: You are now Hand of the King and Protector of the Realm. All of the power is yours; you need only reach out and take it. Make peace with the Lannisters. Release the Imp. Wed your daughter to Joffrey. We have plenty of time to get rid of Stannis, and if Joffrey seems likely to cause problems when he comes into his throne, we simply reveal his little secret and seat Lord Renly there instead. Ned: “We?” Littlefinger: You’ll need someone to share these burdens. I assure you, my price would be modest. Ned: What you suggest is treason. Littlefinger: Only if we lose. Ned: Make peace with the Lannisters, you say. [Ned takes out the dagger used to kill Bran and looks at it reflectingly.] With the people who tried to murder my boy. [He sets the dagger down.] Littlefinger: We only make peace with our enemies, my lord. That’s why it’s called “making peace”. Ned: No. I won’t do it. Littlefinger: So it will be Stannis and war? Ned: There is no other choice. He is the heir. [Littlefinger is clearly disappointed.] Littlefinger: So why did you call me here? Not for my wisdom, clearly. Ned: You promised Catelyn you would help me. The Queen has a dozen knights and a hundred men-at-arms – enough to overwhelm what remains of my household guard. I need the Gold Cloaks. The City Watch is 2,000 strong and sworn to defend the King’s peace. [A grin slowly forms on Littlefinger’s face.] Littlefinger: Look at you – you know what you want me to do. [He sits down.] You know it has to be done, but it’s not honorable so the words stick in your throat. When the Queen proclaims one King and the Hand proclaims another, whose peace do the Gold Cloaks protect? Who do they follow? [He slowly turns the dagger on Ned’s desk towards him.] The man who pays them.

Cersei: Protector of the Realm. Is this meant to be your shield, Lord Stark? A piece of paper? [Cersei tears the letter to pieces.] Barristan: [startled] Those were the King’s words. Cersei: [to Barristan] We have a new king now. [to Ned] Lord Eddard, when we last spoke you offered me some counsel. Allow me to return the courtesy: bend the knee, My Lord. Bend the knee and swear loyalty to my son and we shall allow you to live out your days in the gray waste you call home. Ned: Your son has no claim to the throne. [Cersei scoffs.] Joffrey: Liar! Cersei: You condemn yourself with your own mouth, Lord Stark. Ser Barristan, seize this traitor. [Barristan looks confused, but nonetheless advances on Ned. Several of Ned’s guards move in.] Ned: Ser Barristan is a good man, a loyal man. Do him no harm. [Barristan seemingly backs off.] Cersei: You think he stands alone? [The Hound draws his sword.] Joffrey: Kill him! Kill all of them, I command it! [The other Lannister guards draw their swords.] Ned: [to Janos] Commander! Take the Queen and her children into custody. Escort them back to the royal apartments and keep them there, under guard. Janos: Men of the Watch! [The Gold Cloaks all draw their swords and point their spears up at Cersei and Joffrey. Barristan looks forlorn, but The Hound still looks ready to fight.] Ned: [to his men] I want no bloodshed. [to Cersei] Tell your men to lay down their swords. No one needs to die. [Cersei briefly makes eye contact with Janos.] Janos: Now! [The Gold Cloaks suddenly start attacking and killing Ned’s guards. Ned is shocked and realized he’s been betrayed. Ned starts to draw his sword, but Littlefinger suddenly sweeps up behind him and puts a knife to his throat.] Littlefinger: I did warn you not to trust me.

Varys: Lord Stark, you must be thirsty. [He kneels beside Ned and offers him a skin of water.] Ned: Varys? [Varys continued to offer the water, but Ned does not take it.] Varys: I promise you, it isn’t poisoned. Why is it no one ever trusts the eunuch? [He drinks from it to prove himself. Afterwards he again offers it to Ned. Ned, who is handcuffed by the wrists, takes the skin and drinks from it rather quickly.] Not so much, My Lord. I would save the rest, if I were you. Hide it; men have been known to die of thirst in these cells. Ned: What about my daughters? Varys: The younger one seems to have escaped the castle. Even my little birds cannot find her. [Ned looks relieved that ARYA is seemingly safe for the time being.] Ned: And Sansa? Varys: Still engaged to Joffrey. Cersei will keep her close. The rest of your household, though… all dead, it grieves me to say. I do so hate the sight of blood. Ned: You watched my men being slaughtered and did nothing. Varys: And would again, My Lord. I was unarmed, unarmored and surrounded by Lannister swords. When you look at me, do you see a hero? What madness led you to tell the Queen you had learned the truth about Joffrey’s birth? Ned: The madness of mercy. That she might save her children. Varys: Ah, the children. It’s always the innocents who suffer. It wasn’t the wine that killed Robert, nor the boar. The wine slowed him down and the boar ripped him open, but it was your mercy that killed the King. I trust you know you’re a dead man, Lord Eddard? Ned: The Queen can’t kill me. Cat holds her brother. Varys: The wrong brother, sadly. And lost to her. Your wife has let the Imp slip through her fingers. Ned: If that’s true, then slit my throat and be done with it. Varys: Not today, My Lord. Ned: Tell me something, Varys. who do you truly serve? Varys: The realm, My Lord. Someone must.

Varys: You’ve seen better days, my lord. Ned: Another visit? lt seems you’re my last friend. Varys: No, no, many still love you. [Varys once again has the skin of water. Ned takes it. As he starts to drink from it, Varys pulls down his hood.] Sansa came to court this morning to plead for your life. [Pause as Ned continues to drink from the skin.] Ned: On her knees begging for me. Hmm… did you laugh with the others? Varys: You do me wrong, my lord; your blood is the last thing l want. Ned: l don’t know what you want. I’ve given up trying to guess. [He takes a drink from the skin. Varys thinks for a moment about what to say next.] Varys: When I was still a boy – before they cut my balls off with a hot knife – I traveled with a group of actors through the Free Cities. They taught me that each man has a role to play. The same is true at court. I am the Master of Whisperers. My role is to be sly, obsequious and without scruples. I’m a good actor, my lord. Ned: Huh. Can you free me from this pit? Varys: I could… But will I? No. [Ned laughs sarcastically.] Varys: As I said, I’m no hero. Ned: What do you want? Tell me. No riddles, no stories – tell me, what do you want? [Varys kneels down beside Ned.] Varys: Peace. [Ned looks skeptical.] Did you know that your son is marching south with an army of northmen? Loyal lad, fighting for his father’s freedom. Ned: Robb? He’s just a boy… Varys: Boys have been conquerors before. But the man giving Cersei sleepless nights is the king’s – the late king’s brother. Lord Stannis has the best claim to throne. He is a proven battle commander and he is utterly without mercy. Ned: Stannis Baratheon is Robert’s true heir. The throne is his by rights. Varys: Sansa pleaded so sweetly for your life; it would be such a shame to throw it away. Cersei is no fool. She knows a tame wolf is more use to her than a dead one. Ned: You want me to serve the woman who murdered my king, who butchered my men, who crippled my son?! Varys: I want you to serve the realm! Tell the queen you will confess your vile treason, tell your son to lay down his sword and proclaim Joffrey as the true heir! Cersei knows you as a man of honor. If you give her the peace she needs, and promise to carry her secret to your grave, I believe she will allow you to take the black and live out your days on the Wall with your brother and your bastard son. Ned: You think my life is some precious thing to me? That I would trade my honor for a few more years of – of what?!You grew up with actors. You learned their craft and you learnt it well. But I grew up with soldiers. I learned how to die a long time ago. Varys: Pity. Such a pity. [He stands up and starts to leave, but briefly turns back for a moment, a look of disappointment still on his face.] Varys: What of your daughter’s life, my Lord? Is that a precious thing to you?

Eddard “Ned” Stark (Game of Thrones): ISTJ was originally published on MBTI Zone

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