#me remembering game of thrones exists

[undead-moth]

I'm also just thinking about how people's frustration with The Bear this season in general and not just with SydCarmy is so indicative of how little people understand about story writing.

I got my BA in fiction writing which doesn't make me the world's leading expert or anything but I know enough to know that The Bear is exceptionally well-written and most of the complaints about this season stem from not knowing anything about writing a story.

And on top of this, the same people who don't know anything about writing a story are used to consuming really bad stories because right now, we're in one of the worst eras of television and honestly, writing in general, ever.

Because right now there's no expectation or requirement for a show or book to be well-written before production or publication. There's no requirement for it to actually be good, or for it to even make any sense at the writing level. All that matters is that people will watch it or read it and since people can't tell the difference between good writing and bad writing and largely aren't watching or reading for that reason anyway, who cares?

It's just an endless cycle.

Audiences don't recognize nor want good writing > Producers and publishers don't require nor pursue good writing > Writers that ultimately become successful can't nor need to write well > And the cycle starts over.

And because people are so used to bad writing, and can’t tell the difference between good and bad writing, and don’t want good writing anyway, when a show like The Bear comes around, a show that doesn’t hold their hand and explain everything to them or doesn’t spoon-feed them exactly what they want, a show that isn’t going to sacrifice the narrative through-line just to cut to the romantic chase - people are not only confused but pissed.

And then the most frustrating part of all this is that people then come to the conclusion the writer’s are bad at writing.

It is so bleak to be an aspiring writer right now, I swear.

[garashir]

rewatching game of thrones and its crazy they tried to give dany this arc but with sansa in winterfell as if she wasn’t beloved by her people from the start she knows how this goes

[ukulelekatie]

I just revived my old iPod touch that I haven’t used since ~2013 after believing it to be dead dead for years and oh my god it’s like opening up an old time capsule. There are photos of me and my friends that I haven’t seen in years, taken in an old high school building that doesn’t exist anymore. I have games that are no longer downloadable on the app store. It’s running iOS 5 with the original skeuomorphism app icons. I still have the youtube app. My contacts app is full of maiden names and deadnames. The music app has songs I haven’t heard in almost a decade but still remember all the lyrics to. A daily alarm set for 5:30 AM (god I can’t believe I had to wake up that early in high school) and another set to 11:11 PM to remind me to make a wish. Reminders to finish homework assignments, or to write my application essay for the university I ended up attending, and one marking the release date for the final episode of Cabin Pressure. The last thing I googled was “how to draw people hugging”.

Possibly the strangest thing is that the tumblr app still opens, but it’s stuck in a permanent snapshot of 2013 where it won’t show me any new posts no matter how many times I refresh. My dash is full of old BBC Sherlock posts from long-lost mutuals who have either since deactivated or got unfollowed or changed urls so many times that I don’t even recognize them. Lady Gaga and Game of Thrones are the top trends. My profile shows my previous url and icon, with only 43 followers. I feel like a time traveler

[femboy-c-cups]

The most crying screaming throwing up aspect of a song of ice and fire is Lyanna Stark. Truly the best and most amazing person we never get to see. She was kind, she was brave, she could have been a knight of legend, sung in songs across the world. Her only crime was being a scared young girl who wanted to be anything more than the role feudalism gave her.

What was done to her begins the sequence of events leading to, and throughout the game of thrones. Two generations of war, famine, torture, and genocide. She is fondly remembered by everyone who knew her. But none of those people seem truly aware of the part they played in her tragedy. Robert mourns a girl who never existed. Ned sees her in his own daughter, yet still insists that she will one day be married. Men who only know love through what they can see from the window of their cell.

I don't think asoiaf is cynical. But it does subvert/deconstruct many classic fantasy tropes. Jaime aspires and upholds the idea of the honourable knight and becomes the villain for it. Robb chooses love over duty and it costs him everything. Jon can't save his family without betraying his brothers. To avenge her family, Arya must forget them. All of these are so sad to see, that love and truth can't always win. But of all these the one of these that fucks me up the most is Meera Reed finding out that not even Bran knows the tale of the Knight of the Laughing Tree.

There's only one man left alive who knew Lyanna Stark.

[vinamari]

Sukuna with “Out of everyone, I found you the most captivating” prompt?

「𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝」

PROMPT: “Out of everyone, I found you the most captivating”

A/N: Hope you enjoy!

It felt like hours since you had been running, especially inside the head of Sukuna.

Your lungs ached with every breath and your legs were sore from the sprint. You felt the need for a break, so you slowed down and took in some deep breaths to calm down.

When your eyes adjusted to the ground, well water in the color of blood. It had only urged you to continue running. Everything seemed endless. One moment you had rested your head on Yuji’s shoulder, listening to Nobara complain about not enough channels being on the Tv as Megumi tried not to grow agitated with her complaints. Yuji continued eating his food while watching the Tv, while you fell asleep. However you hadn’t expected to open your eyes only to feel a flow of water around you with skulls of creatures that you were didn’t exist today. In fact, it was so bizarre that you weren’t sure if it was real or just your mind playing tricks on you.

You had looked forward, watching as the skulls now turn into a large pile with a throne like structure at the top. There he was, all four ruby eyes directly staring at you. He slightly seemed amused, yet you blamed it on the angle from where you were looking.

Confusion turned to fear as soon as his red irises started glowing brighter than normal. He opened his mouth and spoke with a deep voice. “At first I didn’t think I could bring anyone else here, considering that the brat could prevent it”

You swallowed your saliva, trying to avoid his dark gaze. An unamused smile formed on his face, and you could hear his chuckle. “Eyes up here, you think you can ignore me?”, angering him was the last thing you needed to do. You nodded quickly, hoping to keep yourself from pissing him off even more. Tilting your head upwards, he wasn’t there anymore.

“I am the king of curses”, he said. His words echoed through your head until you heard his laugh once again. “These sorcerers think they are safe, all since I am contained however some other sorcerers still hold fear of my abilities.” The voice had come from behind, quickly getting yourself up from the watery ground before turning around.

There he stood, looking as imposing as ever. His crimson eyes were all narrowed and glaring at you. You shivered, feeling coldness settle into your bones. “Your abilities are quite powerful, yet just like that shikigami user you hold back.” Megumi, you remember when he had ended up battling Megumi before going after you. Wincing at the memory of how he had thrown you against trees and knocking Megumi into you. The injuries that the both of you had sustained took almost two weeks to heal.

He stepped closer towards you, making you take a step back. Your heart beat loudly in your ears. “They think this is some kind of game,” he mumbled, his expression contorted in annoyance. He grabbed you by your jaw looking at you intrigued, “However compared to that shikigami user, you held back the most with your cursed techniques”. Being afraid was an understatement, you were scared shitless in this position. This was nothing like what you experienced. It was scary, but the fact that this man could torture you for hours over nothing, and then kill you without hesitation made you nauseous. You knew you couldn't do anything else. If you did, he might kill you.

He let out a sigh, letting go of your chin. “You are interesting... “, he said, as he took a step back as he eyed you up and down. “Hm, let’s make a deal”, there it was. You remember Yuji saying that he had made a pact with Sukuna however was unsure of what it had been.

That’s what brings you to your current predicament, you didn’t think you had the guts to move or even run from the king of curses but here you are. It was worth the laugh for Sukuna, you really believe you could out run him of all people and that being inside his mind. But it wouldn’t be smart to fight him alone, not that you could fight him with someone else right now, and besides that, he would just kill you either way. You had to think of something quick.

Maybe you could just…

The sound of footsteps drew attention away from your thoughts and brought you back to reality. You watched as he walked towards you grinning, he was already caught up. Your eyes widened, there really was no escape from this. “What do you want”, you stammered out. Scoffing, “Well if you hadn’t ran away, I would have told you what I wanted”. As soon as those words left his lips, he had you by the throat. His black colored nails protruding against your skin, he watched you frantically try to rip his arm away only for him to squeeze your throat slightly forcing you to stop.

“If you don’t listen to me carefully, I will cut your tongue off. And I mean, it is very easy to do such a thing.” You didn’t answer, not trusting your own voice. His fingers tightened around your neck, causing you to gasp for air. “Don’t make me repeat myself”, his grip loosened a bit. You inhaled deeply, feeling your heartbeat slowly return to normal. After a moment, he released you from his grasp. He didn’t walk away just yet, however. A small smirk appeared on his face as he observed your reaction.

You coughed, trying to clear your throat. When you regained your breathe, he spoke again, “You fascinate me, you’re strong, yet you don’t put it to full use”, his expression showed that he was disgusted, for not putting your abilities to full use? “That doesn’t explain why am here”, you spoke up sweating as the words fell out. “You must have something to gain from this, otherwise why would I be here”, you finished with a nervous chuckle. His hand moved closer to your throat again, you flinched. It’s not like your life depended on your survival anymore. This time his hand rubbed against the imprint left by his nails.

“I want you to visit me, not that you have a choice”, letting out a chuckle before taking in your shocked expression. “Why?!”, it sounded more as of a statement than a question. “Out of everyone, I found you the most captivating”, his red eyes stared straight into yours, making you feel vulnerable and exposed. “Perhaps it's because you remind me of someone I lost a long time ago”, there had been no thought behind his eyes. His thumb grazed your throat lightly, the touch sending shivers down your spine. His arm slowly falling down to your waist before pulling you in, bringing your body to flush against his own.

“Everything will fall into place”

Just like that you tapped out.

[for-ests]

Suffocation: Gojo x Reader

Suffocation MLIST wc: 6, 100 summary: gojo makes an unexpected ally on your behalf, and discovers some VERY important information. (excuse the ugly layout tumblr is annoying me)

"When's the last time you old geezers saw something like this?" Gojo's voice echoed as he slapped your notebook on the ground before the Higher-Ups. 

The silence made him chuckle. 

Gojo loathed when he was forced to stand in this restricted, stuffy, yet ornate temple for longer than necessary. He hated them. The higher-ups gazed down at him from their pedestals with disdain, though they knew he could kill them at any moment. He would. It was just a matter of when. 

They always doubted him, as they doubted his birth, doubted every action he was required to report. There was never a moment for him, or anyone he loved, to breathe. They were all pawns, including him. 

Until you entered his life. A wildcard, a force of nature, a remnant of the past that struck fear into their hearts. Your existence shattered their perceptions of reality as they knew it. 

Once the pages turned, your cursed energy engulfed the room. The spell you weaved burst from the pages, displaying ancient art and prophecies of the past and future. 

But the present was all Gojo, his smirk tauntingly proud and unwavering. 

"Look familiar?" His head snapped to the left. His eyes guided him as if sensing the magical bond of your spell to a singular member of the Higher-ups. The only person he confirmed to be a woman, the aura surrounding her more potent than he ever suspected. It confirmed his understanding, his suspicions. And now, he'd backed your secretive relative into a corner she couldn't weasel out of this time. 

It was the first time he felt her gaze. It was different from the rest. It was an acknowledgment. Every other meeting, this Higher-up, Tomoe, was shrouded in mystery and never uttered a word. But the unveiling prompted her to fully open her eyes. 

And when Gojo caught her stare, all he saw was an everlasting, vibrant, and forever-giving forest. Trees that touched the sky and beyond. 

Gazing into her eyes was like staring into an older version of yours. Such wisdom in a young soul, such comfort, entirely and utterly the purest form of love that he would never be able to feel elsewhere. 

"What do you really mean boy?" Her voice was low and commanding, divining his intentions without even having to lift her finger. The other Higher-Ups remained mute as if obeying the same commandment. Those unaware of her power shall not interrupt. 

A perfect failsafe. Only those aware shall remember, one of the oldest spells in the book for those who studied it. 

"Nobody else knows?" Gojo smirked, noticing how long it took the clock on the wall to pass one minute. His infinity warned him he was being forced into an overwhelmingly strong spell, one so potent that the other Higher-Ups failed to notice. It was only him, and this grandma shrouded in mystery. 

"Of course not." Her voice almost shattered his eardrums. "Don't be coy now." 

"Don't play games with me, witch." Gojo hissed, pushing through the mystifying spell, through the threat of hallucination, knowing it wasn't from you. The remnants of your energy embedded into the spell enveloped the entire room. Your touch, comfort, and promises were the only things that pulled Gojo back to reality and helped him fight against the Higher-Up before him. 

"There are no games being played." She fired back, seeming to grow larger upon her throne. "Has she been marked yet?" 

Gojo only stared back through his blindfold, his silence alone providing the answer. For you, he would entertain the people he hated most. 

"A few nights ago." 

Tomoe sighed. Indifference was what Gojo noticed, not excitement or disappointment. "So… It's finally begun." 

"What has?" he pried. 

"The awakening." She paused, pulling back her hood and revealing a red-ink tattoo engraved on her wrinkled forehead. "We managed to keep her locked away for a thousand years. But now that Sukuna has your student as a vessel, he's manifested back into our realm, therefore igniting the magic that also keeps her subdued-" 

"Who is she?" Gojo interrupted, shattering the spell the current supreme was trying to suffocate him with, masking its intentions with your smell, energy, kindness, and taste. "It's time for answers, Miss Supreme." He managed to force out, feeling slightly dizzy. 

"The Yozora coven's strongest witch." 

Stronger than the woman before him? Gojo wondered, feeling the threat of slumber and tranquility infesting his mind, trying to pry in and snap into oblivion. It was so quick, like whiplash—that it took him an agonizing ten seconds to speak his true intentions. "You…You can read this spell, can't you Obaasan?" 

"Yes." Tomoe's voice echoed dangerously, with a tinge of surprise that he was able to fight through her hypnosis. 

All of the higher-ups audibly gasped. Some even shifted in their thrones with discomfort. Tomoe was one of only three sorcerers who was fluent in Sanskrit. The woman who occupied the smallest throne was the most threatening Higher-Up of the crowd. A stare that resembled daggers and certain death. 

Even Gojo would be hesitant to mess with her, but not when your life, future, and fate were on the line. And if he could do something about it, anything, he would. 

"Then tell me what it says, you old hag." 

Tomoe knew his reasoning. She had prophesied it decades ago in silence. Your scent was all over Gojo, your strikingly similar cursed energy was billowing from that damned journal. The oldest prophecy was near fulfillment. You were the final piece, and everything was unwittingly falling into place. 

That was what the magic in her screamed. The chosen one of their coven was finally reborn, a woman of their bloodline strong enough to destroy the blight that caused their historical downfall. 

"Let me get a closer look, you insolent boy." 

In front of watchful eyes, Tomoe raised her hand and pulled the book across the room into her lap. The pages flipped without assistance, your green cursed energy lighting up the candle-lit room. It was so powerful that even the supreme's eyes widened, her features illuminated by the cursed kanji. 

A moment passed, and everyone, including Gojo, seemed to be holding their breaths. 

Your future was on the line, and he couldn't stop himself from worrying. Either the Higher-ups gave him what he wanted and what was best for you, or he would gladly become the pariah they always suspected him to be.

"If this is true, we may already be too late…" she trailed off, seeming hesitant to reveal the translation. The prophecies you wrote, including the ones that foretold the past, seemed to hint at a revival. The dreams Tomoe had from your ancestors whispered of this upcoming revelation. There was no escaping The Onyro's return now. She would find whatever means necessary to take her rightful place beside her husband's throne; her vengeance and thirst for power were unstoppable. 

Tomoe cursed herself, wondering why she hadn't predicted this when Gojo Satoru was born. A man of equal standing to Sukuna was precisely what the women in her coven craved. They would do anything to strengthen the bloodline. 

"The prophecy envisages that the Onyro will return." 

More gasps and mumbles filled the blank space. It was astonishing news, yet not unforeseen. But incredulously outdated and devastating. Long ago, when the spell was created, and curses ran free across the land, the coven poured all their resources into their supreme, Kyoko, before she betrayed them. 

Legends and fables sprouted from the destruction Kyoko wrought alongside Sukuna, and when she passed, and Sukuna was defeated, her power and guidance weren't needed. This revival was no longer required and hadn't been for hundreds of years. But when magic is poured into the earth, it cannot be undone. 

It lies in wait for the opportunity, like Kyoko waiting for her master. Tomoe suspected that the second Sukuna retrieved his true form, he would first awaken his beloved. She was the only thing his cold, black heart cared about besides chaos and destruction.

"Our ancestors have chosen Y/N to be the next supreme of the Yoroza coven." 

Gojo was trying his best to keep up while confirming his own suspicions. He was the strongest sorcerer on earth; he knew that. The higher-ups knew that. The witches of your bloodline knew that from the afterlife, and they would do anything to ensure they received those benefits like they had in the past and would do so again—even if that meant using you in the process. Your feelings and your heart did not matter to them. 

"And Gojo… you are the desired partner." 

All the questions in his mind disappeared. His brain short-circuited, and his blood ran cold.  

"A unification this powerful hasn't been noticed since… Sukuna married his only wife." 

She was the most evil woman in written history who would kill and destroy anything for her king. A woman of legend, a blight on the Yoroza coven. All of a sudden, your gift of  prophecy had turned you into one of the most influential people on the planet—the only woman who could stop the king and queen of curses. 

The only woman who could keep up with him, the only woman who could outsmart him. 

For the rest of that meeting, Gojo's ears buzzed, his mind racing through every interaction with you, wondering where he failed, how had he let these witches infiltrate his life? Was this all part of your master plan? What kind of spell could you possibly cast on him? Did you even know you could? Had you cursed him without knowing? 

Had he… cursed you? 

Anyone but you. He would go insane. This wasn't supposed to happen. 

He didn't want to blame you. It hurt too much. Your absence would crush him. The mere thought of you was enough to brighten his darkest days, and he didn't want that light to vanish. 

Gojo needed you. 

Once dismissed, he waited impatiently outside the temple, pacing back and forth, trying to keep his hands in his pockets. Tomoe. He needed to speak with her. He needed to understand. It was all too much. Was this the betrayal he was expecting? Had you known all along? 

Gojo knew it was absurd, deep in his heart. But he had to make sure. This overwhelming feeling of love was so incredibly foreign. He didn't know how to operate with it, and it was like your presence blinded him. Just the thought of you was a distraction, but he loved it; he welcomed each and every moment with you. 

The front doors swung open, and Tomoe appeared. She had two other women adorned in all black following her. Black dresses, black veils, and black jewelry. 

Descending the steps, Tomoe's eyes fell on Gojo. He was clearly in distress, and she could only guess the reason why- a misunderstanding. Whenever men tried to understand the magic of a witch, they always seemed to lose their minds. 

"Are these feelings my own?" Gojo's voice was low, bracing himself for the words of betrayal. "Does your magic fuck with my head? Does it make me love her?" 

He gripped his shirt right above his heart. It pounded for you, it yearned for you…why? Was it even real? 

Tomoe realized it was the only time she'd seen the Gojo Satoru nervous. Did he really care for you that deeply? But she didn't show any surprise. She only glanced at him in an exaggerated sigh as if feeling sorry for him. "The Yoroza coven's magic has nothing to do with your soul partner." 

The way in which Tomoe said soul partner so casually baffled Gojo. As if she was certain, as if she knew soulmates were real, as if she'd seen it with her own eyes, as if she, too, had once loved someone that sincerely.

Watching his expressions spiral more deeply into confusion, Tomoe rolled her eyes. "You men are so fickle. You claim to be the stronger sex, yet fall to pieces in the blink of an eye from the simplest misunderstanding." 

"Harsh…" Gojo rolled his eyes but waited for her to continue. 

"Y/N being your soulmate is only happenstance. A particularly fortuitous one, in fact. This makes your bond to her stronger than any form of magic could mimic." 

Gojo's heart almost lurched out of his chest. That could only mean that everything you told him was truthful, that this connection he felt to you from the moment you met was genuine, it was real. To stop fidgeting with his hands, Gojo shoved them in his pockets. 

"Once a witch crosses to the other side, there is no intervening, only guidance. A sort of guidance that one wouldn't even notice. Y/N always had her free will intact, and none of us plan to take it away from her."

Tomoe glanced back at Gojo, turning her body slightly toward him.

"Unless…" 

"Unless what?" 

"She decides to follow in Kyoko's footsteps." 

Gojo was quick to answer. "She would never." 

"Desperation brings out the worst in us." Tomoe paused. "Dare you forget that the king of curses resides in her brother's body?" 

"The magic inside her will only grow stronger." Her eyes darkened. "It's still not fully understood, but it can make anyone go insane." Despite her initial explanation, the look on her face spoke otherwise. The banter she'd shared over the years with Gojo was only coming from a place of encouragement, or wanting him to improve. Not that she knew this moment would happen, but she knew the right man would step up in the way their coven needed. Potential men had come and gone. Dead and buried. 

Tomoe also knew that Gojo was the strongest and hated the higher-ups. They were always so pretentious and conceited. They always thought they knew best at the expense of the youth who would take their place. The one thing about the Yoroza coven was that they always prioritized and nurtured their offspring and invested all their resources into furthering their survival. 

And now the supreme knew about you. A woman who changed the man before her for the better gave him a new hope that wouldn't be present without your love and affection. 

And, of course, she was a little peeved that the ancestors hadn't made her aware until now. But, they knew best. If you were hiding in the shadows for this long, it had to be for a reason. 

So, Tomoe showed the most significant sign of respect she could, tugging her veil down. "I have an inkling that Y/N would do anything for you," she said, facing Gojo, bearing her forehead mark to him. It didn't matter if she could see his eyes. That was your ability, not hers. His intentions had already been apparent. "Lead her. Do what's best for her, even if she fights you on it. I still have yet to meet the new supreme, but I already know she is anything but oblivious." 

Gojo's eyes twinkled. He recognized the sign of respect and pulled his blindfold onto his forehead. "She's unlike any other," he confirmed, locking eyes with the supreme. The two of you were so similar, yet so different. And the Yoroza coven would require those differences, change, and innovation. "I will do everything I can to help."

It didn't matter now if he'd lumped Tomoe in with the other higher-ups. At this point, she was the only one who seemed to care whether you lived or died. And he would be stupid to ignore it, to disregard that Tomoe kept herself hidden for this exact reason. Of course, Gojo didn't fully trust her, but things were different now. He needed her to be on his side, and would rather work with her than destroy her and the coven that was tied to you. Her warning was heard loud and clear. 

Gojo couldn't believe it came to this, that he was willing to even ask Tomoe for assistance. But again, anything for you. He would put his past grievances on hold. "Help her, please." 

Tomoe full-belly laughed. "Not even a thank you? It baffles me that she wants anything to do with you. Are you positive you weren't the one to cast a spell on her?" 

"You suck granny." Gojo stuck his tongue out. "You wish I was, then you could actually tell me what to do." 

Tomoe silently cursed the ancestors for not granting them the power of mind-reading. Gojo was a jokester, and his words always had an underlying meaning. But, the more optimistic part of her made a smile appear on her lips. There was no reason to be so cynical toward Gojo anymore, not when he'd set his eyes on a member of their coven, possibly the strongest among them to exist. 

When Tomoe finally smiled, Gojo realized she was actually tolerable in a more private setting. You would definitely get along with her, and find all the answers you sought. 

Pulling her veil back up, Tomoe bowed her head. "I will visit on the next full moon. Keep me updated on her first assignment. Do not speak of this conversation to another, not even Y/N. Not yet." 

It would be impossible to keep anything from you. Gojo knew that, but he admitted internally that knowing you were soul partners was something he wanted to keep to himself for a while longer. Only because he didn't want that prospect to influence your decisions. Like Tomoe, Gojo wanted your free will to remain. 

"I had to pull a lot of strings to oversee this case." Tomoe looked at Gojo one last time. "Until next time, boy." 

Gojo watched Tomoe depart. The supreme always took the long way through the forest. Her cloak was perfectly hemmed so it did not drag across the earth. Her sandals were made of the finest wood, yet he was still baffled that she insisted on walking so long and far in uncomfortable footwear, even if it was traditional. The veil she wore was what was most intimidating. The ink red of the coven mark was visible through the black sheer, dark, wise, and all-knowing eyes staring back through it. 

A gift back to the earth, a protector of fertile soil. The foliage surrounding Tomoe's path home was vibrant and luscious, with so many shades of green that it could make up an entire color palette. A green so sharp, so unique, that the forest reminded Gojo of your eyes. The essence of life seemed to glimmer in your pupils, exemplified in your cursed energy. What an anomaly you were. 

Gojo was the sky, and you were the earth. In each other, you would find unbreakable foundations. One could not exist without the other. You were the moon to his sun. It was strange to feel this way, and even more confusing to be okay with it. It made sense, and just seeing you made him feel at peace no matter what other problems lingered in the distance. To see you as happy as you looked now, lying in the grass with your brother, was a gift. A smile in your expression, your giggle dancing along the tips of grass that surrounded you. A beautiful woman and her lively little brother. 

A reality where you were safe and sound, happy and protected. 

Staring at the sky, you found solace in comparing Gojo's eyes to the infinity that stretched beyond the stratosphere. The sky was not the same shade, his eyes were far more blue, but it was more in the impossibility to measure the limits.

You lay next to your brother in the middle of the track and field lawn, the two of you deciding to watch the sunset together. You'd been preoccupied with training and studying all day, so a breath of fresh air was welcomed—and talking to your brother. Everyone else was out, and you suspected Yuji wanted some time with you and didn't want to be alone. 

After you took him out to dinner, he begged you to show him the exact color of his soul. That's when you suggested this current activity–lounging about on the lawn until the perfect example revealed itself–an endless canvas sky displaying an array of reds, oranges, and yellows. Chatting under a magnificent sunset, one you would remember for the rest of your lives. 

Despite that, you couldn't help but gush about Gojo, even if it was just a little bit. You knew that Yuji had seen his eyes before, had witnessed his abilities months before you were wrapped into their world—but you had a different perspective. 

It was one of love, whether you could admit it out loud or not. Even if it was evident to everyone else, you didn't care. 

Turning to Yuji, your face softened, opting to open your questions to him. If your brother wasn't truly fond of Gojo, you might have to reconsider.  "You like Satoru, right Yuji?" 

"Satoru?" He raised his eyebrows. "You mean Gojo-Sensei?"

You blushed, realizing how bluntly you had revealed your true feelings about Gojo and how close the two of you were. "Yes…" you muttered, reaching up to shield your expression from him with your hands.

"He's always been kind to you, right?" you asked Yuji once your cheeks stopped burning. 

"Yes."

"Would you say he's a good fit for me?" 

"Oh?" Yuji snapped his head to look at you. "It's getting pretty serious, huh sis?" 

"I think so," you admitted. "I feel like I know everything about him already, but I just want to check in with you and make sure it's okay." 

"Even when I think about it, I can't think of anything bad." Yuji shrugged. "I don't think it's awkward. I just want you to be happy." 

"That's all I want for you as well, Yuji." You smiled, still staring at the sky, watching the clouds roll by, and the light reflect off the mist as the sun slowly descended. The cicadas were starting to grow restless, and as dusk approached, so did the crickets. "Once this is all sorted out and you graduate, you are more than welcome to live with me." 

"Do you think you'd like to live with Gojo-Sensei too?" 

"What?" You almost choked. "Where did you get that from?" 

"The last week or so, you've been sleeping in his apartment, haven't you?" 

Floored, you searched his eyes for any indication of a joke. "You noticed?" 

"All of us noticed." 

You couldn't even think of a reply. Nothing in particular happened. Nothing besides intimate cuddles and sloppy, desperate kisses between the sheets—but Gojo hadn't tried anything more with you. Being in his bed just felt right, and you would be a fool to say no when he asked you to accompany him. 

He'd become far more touchy with you over the last week, and you welcomed the affection with open arms. The promise he relayed to you before he left for his last mission was still alive and well. Even him promising to bring you roses. Before you even noticed the roses on your desk starting to wilt, Gojo stopped by with a fresh bouquet. 

It was perfect. And you would be a liar to say you were anything but happy. Standing next to Gojo made you feel more complete than you'd ever felt before. Despite the circumstances you and him were thrust into, anything seemed possible with his encouragement. Even if it hadn't been long, you yearned to wake up every day in his bed, with his muscular arms wrapped tightly around you.  Staring into his mystifying blue eyes, was something you would never grow tired of. A future with him, reverberated deep within your soul. 

You would look forward to his grunts of protest whenever you wanted to ditch the bed first, fighting against your own grogginess to make him a cup of coffee. Gojo's hands would reach for you, teasingly, trying his best to bring you back into his arms, only to release you when you mentioned what you would bring back. 

And his smile… Just knowing it was because of you caused you to blush. There hadn't been a moment when the two of you were alone that he wasn't smiling at you. 

It was too perfect. But maybe, just maybe, you deserved something of this merit. 

Laughing at your silence and how your eyebrows furrowed, Yuji tried to reassure you in the same breath. "Gojo seems happier, too." 

Your brother didn't need to confirm that it was because of you. He knew, you knew–and apparently everybody knew. Maybe the type of bond you had with Gojo was infectious; you weren't sure. All that mattered was the possibility of exploration and the comfort he provided you. 

"He showed me his eyes the other week. They are very beautiful." One of your hands began to nervously pull at the grass beside you. Just thinking about that moment made you flustered all over again. "His soul isn't blue though. I wonder what it is." 

"Doesn't matter much. I like the color of your eyes more Y/N, reminds me of healthy grass." 

Your brother was about to continue before you barked out a laugh, tilting your head to the side to glimpse his smile. 

"Really Yuji? Grass?" you teased, flailing your arm to lightly smack him. "Do I need to teach you how to compliment?" 

"What?" He began to laugh with you. "It's the greenest thing around!"

The vibrant green of the earth, forever wishing to join the endless blue of the sky. It was impossible for you to stare into the blue and not have the shade remind you of Gojo's eyes. You thought of him and his passion for teaching the kids and helping your brother. 

What you couldn't fathom at that moment was that you were literally the earth that grounded the strongest sorcerer, and you had the potential to do more. You would eventually be his equal, a fate written in the stars, in a similar prophecy that was everlasting and forever interlinked into infinity. 

Staring at Yuji, you knew you would do anything for him. His youth should not go to waste like yours had. You wanted him to have a family. A place where he belonged, with no signs of that changing unless he himself wished for it. A home, a safe place, with people that cared for him as much as he cared for others. 

The same sentiment was running through Gojo's mind as he approached the two of you, lounging in the grass, laughing without a care in the world. What was different about his thoughts was that he was also thinking of you.

"Is this what siblings do nowadays?" Gojo's voice emitted teasingly from a few yards away. Yuji lifted his head and you sat up altogether, intrigued to hear what happened in his meeting with the Higher-Ups. 

"How did it go?" you asked hesitantly. 

The man you were infatuated with shrugged, as if it was just another bump in the road. Everyone knew he was constantly dealing with these meetings. Being the strongest had its own form of burdens. But he didn't seem particularly upset or excited. That was until he noticed the concern in your expression with each second he didn't respond. 

How would he tell you this? How would you take it? There was no easy way to help you understand, and there was no easy way to deal with this. For anybody else, for anything else, he wouldn't care this much. With each day that passed, you became more and more important to him. Since he met you, he wanted to deny this feeling. And even if it hadn't been long, it felt right. And according to Tomoe, it was fate… written in the stars before either of you were born. 

"Someone special would love to meet you next month." Gojo smirked, brandishing your journal to you. That would be a conversation to have when your brother was not lying beside you with his feet kicked back. Not when the two of you were spending much-needed quality time together. 

"Who?" you questioned with wide, surprised eyes. You took your journal back and laid it beside you. 

"The current supreme of the Yoroza coven." He leaned down to an almost ninety-degree angle to stare at you. "She basically welcomed you to the family. Congratulations!" 

Giggling, your eyes immediately flickered to his lips, at the way his tongue nervously glided over them as he noticed your focus. If Yuji hadn't been watching, you definitely would have taken advantage of this position. 

"Is she nice?" you asked. So many other questions had the potential to surface, but all you could focus on was him. Your body language hinted that you were interested, but it would have to wait for later. 

"She's an old hag, but cool enough." 

Putting his hands in his pockets, Gojo's demeanor shifted. "She is definitely your ally, Y/N. That I can say for sure. And out of all the Higher-ups, I happen to like her the most." 

You smiled in response, nodding your head. "If you like her, I trust you."

"Be careful, Y/N, she might pass all her witchy powers onto you!" Yuji gasped. 

Turning to him, you rolled your eyes, playfully smacking his arm again. 

Once the laughter died down, you turned to a watchful Gojo and blushed. "Care to join us?" 

"Whatcha doing?" 

"Watching the sunset." Yuji replied for you. "She can show me what the color of my soul is if we get a good one." 

"Oh, I would love to see this!' Gojo pumped his fists in the air, before plopping down beside you. You laid down until your back touched the previous imprint in the grass. Chuckling, Gojo snuck his arm under your neck. You sighed blissfully in response. 

"I need a better view," Yuji said, shifting positions so he was leaning against your shoulder. You lifted your arm and welcomed him. A few minutes passed, with your two favorite boys snuggled against you, both of them chatting about random moments, about class, about what training they could work on together as the sun continued to descend to the horizon. 

Listening to them, an enormous smile spread across your face. They were your home, your safe haven. 

And finally, the exact sunset you imagined filled the sky. "There!" You pointed excitedly. "It's perfect." 

It really was the perfect example, by far one of the best sunsets you'd seen in awhile, possibly even years. The warmth, comfort, innocence, and consistency of such a gorgeous display of colors was the same feeling you gathered from the pure essence of Yuji's soul. Boyishly wise but also rambunctious. A comfort, a friend to rely on and trust. Someone that cared, that would do anything for the people he loved. 

What a wonderful boy he was. He could only be compared to the sunset, a setting far more beautiful than the sun itself. A certain mood, a certain feeling. Yuji invoked all of that and so much more. 

The three of you stayed there until the sun vanished, casting a relaxing, dark blue hue across the sky. It was a perfect midnight, illuminated by the moon, which reminded you of the calmness you saw in Megumi's soul. 

Now that it was revealed everyone was aware of your late-night sleepovers in Gojo's room, you walked with him straight there after wishing Yuji a good night. Hand in hand, you smiled at him sleepily, not wanting to admit how nervous you were for your first mission. 

Of course, you had a bad feeling about tomorrow. But, you didn't know if it was just nerves or something more. 

Just like the night before, you found yourself tangled up with Gojo in the sheets, letting him kiss you all over, letting his hands knead out the soreness from your muscles. "You'll do amazing tomorrow, Y/N," he whispered, nipping your earlobe. 

Giggling, you turned to face him. "I appreciate how much faith you have in me." 

"It's not just me, Y/N," Gojo said. "Your brother does too, and so does your coven." 

"You talked to the coven?" 

"I talked to Tomoe, your supreme…" he trailed off for a moment, debating on how he should tell you, and how you would react. But he didn't want to hide everything from you. It wouldn't be fair. "They want you to be the next supreme." 

Your head snapped up and tilted to lock eyes with him. "They do?" 

"When you're ready, of course," he added, watching the shift of your expression. "There's no need to rush yet, and please, don't get nervous. If anything, its more of a formality." 

That was a lie. You knew it from the rush that twisted your gut at the mention of such responsibility. You knew it from your dreams, from the prophecies that had been building up in recent years. Something more was always destined for you, and now it was all falling into place. 

"I know what it means, Satoru." You reached out and cupped his cheeks, beckoning him to cover your body with his own. "I'm not scared of my destiny, more so nervous of how I'll get there." 

Gojo's eyes traveled over your face hungrily, seeming to take in everything about you—your expression, your thoughts, your desires. He wanted all of you so badly. 

In the next movement, you were gasping for one another, gasping for air with bodies pressed close, hands traveling, touching, and gripping, sending sparks of electricity off between the two of you. But that was where you stopped, not daring to take it a step further that night. Gojo was always so respectful of your boundaries, and you cherished that. 

"When can I have you?" he whined, caressing the inside of your thighs which were hanging loosely around his head. 

Raising an eyebrow, you smirked at him. "I already told you when." 

He loved this confident side of you, the part of you that wasn't afraid to tease him, to make him wait, and remember that you were in control when it came to this relationship. God, he was obsessed with you. He worshipped you. Gojo knew the reason why, and it made him feel powerful. You were his soulmate. 

He kissed the flesh of your thigh, sighing as if you wounded him. "You're right, can't distract you before your first mission." 

"Oh?" 

Tracing circles along your abdomen, he smirked, speaking in a high-pitched tone in an attempt to match your own. "Gojo's just so dreamy…all I can think about is what he did to me last night—ah!" he gasped, crawling over you before burying his face between your breasts and blowing air, making you squeal in response. "And then bam! You get hurt." 

He lifted his face with a pout. "We can't have that, can we?" 

"No we can't, idiot." You crossed your arms over your breasts. But, you were smiling, as Gojo never failed to distract you and prevent your thoughts from wandering. 

"And I'll be just a call away, okay?" He pressed a kiss to your forehead before sinking into the bed beside you. "So don't worry too much." 

You pulled the string of the bedside lamp off and snuggled up to Gojo in the darkness. The beat of his heart once again lulled you into a peaceful slumber, the firmness of his muscles wrapped around you, making you feel safe and protected. 

You weren't particularly excited for tomorrow, but you were hopeful. If Gojo, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age had this much confidence in you, this much faith, maybe you were underestimating your abilities. 

If you were to be the next supreme, tomorrow really mattered, and you had to show up for it. 

Anything to keep those you loved safe. Anything and more. 

Turning your head to press your lips one more time against Gojo's, you were certain that he fell into that category. Something inside of you whispered that this was meant to be, and that you would be a fool to not give him your heart, your soul, and your body. 

And for Gojo, well, he finally felt complete. He would tear the entire world apart if anything or anyone threatened you. Ever since you came into his life, it was as if he saw color for the first time, as if he could finally see how the world really was without being forced upon the most extraordinary pedestal. 

"You make me see the world differently," he whispered, pulling you closer into his chest. He inhaled the scent of the floral perfume in your hair, which tickled against his skin. "I will forever be indebted to you for that." 

He always got so sentimental at night. You thought but relaxed against him nonetheless. You wouldn't have it any other way. 

The only response that lingered on your tongue was three life-changing words, that you never thought you would admit. You loved Gojo. In such a short amount of time, you found the man you would do anything for.

[pokedash55]

Turbo, Internalized Glitchphobia, and how King Candy is a clever Parallel to Vanellope's arc

So KC is so hateful and derogatory of Vanellope's Glitch in a way that feels beyond simply keeping power and control of the kingdom. There is so much distain in his voice for Vanellope both in public and private. He is obviously paranoid of returning to a life without his rule, but I think it goes deeper. He's also terrified of returning to a life without a game. Returning to a life as a glitched homeless outcast. Remember Turbo was to some degree homeless before 1997, almost 10 years of hiding and game hopping. He's still a power hungry asshole (and I love him for that) so this isn't justification but hear me out (cause angst for angsts sake is my jam)

I love giving him this internalized hatred of glitches because he was one before Sugar Rush. After the crash in Roadblasters, the console crashed and his code was probably damaged. Without his game nothing could repair the code. He was stuck as a glitch and he attacks Vanellope ruthlessly for it as an ego defense. It's almost a subconscious response to her and a reassurance that he's in control and isn't like that anymore. It was possible at one point he was in the same position as her: Alone and worthless, long ago he too had nowhere to go and was a glitch hated and scorned by those around him, becoming nothing but a fear mongering story and a freak to those who should respect him (So the obvious way to heal from this is to make another person suffer the same fate in order to feel the satisfaction of being in control)

Attacking her and labeling her Glitch is his internalized hatred of the weakness that he is running from every day he masks as KC, gaining more and more gratification and ownership of a game he is not apart of. He made his move to usurp the throne on day one and is so psychotic and proud that he has fallen for his own ruse. The King Candy character exists and is just as real as the "Turbo' character. Turbo ended up entranced by his perfect little sandbox world. He had a home and a life again. He had access to whatever he wanted and players who would love him. His subjects loved him and he was free to bask in that attention. It was an echo chamber of comfort and instant appreciation. He could fully accept the narrative he constructed if only SHE didn't exist. But her presence is forever a stain to his new home and a threat to his ego. She will always be there to remind him that he stole this game and without it he has nothing. That the life he has, although still entitled to it, is fake. Her glitching was always a reminder of the decade he spent just like her.

People love to connect Turbo and Ralph, talking about what happens if you grow too selfish in your desires for self respect and how rejecting your role in the world can be disastrous for everyone. I love the parallels with Turbo as the ultimate extension of Ralph's negative qualities. In the movie it also directly connects Ralph and Vanellope with themes of belonging and rejection from society. But what if these thematic Parallels became a triangle?? King Candy is living a lie and claiming an identity that is not his own and doing it with glee. He relishes in the escapism of being the King. He is technically doing the opposite of Vanellope, fully denouncing his actual self and embracing a self created fake persona in a ploy for power instead of accepting his place and being content as Turbo. But once "Turbo" became an outcasted glitch (totally from his own actions but still) from the crash, that "character" wasn't popular anymore he needed to become something else. With all that access to the code someone is bound to grow nihilistic or existential with who they are. He changed every bit and strand of his code just to become popular. But Vanellope never abandoned her true self. Through all the persecution, loneliness and maybe even jealously, she accepted her state as a glitch. Even when becoming royalty she wasn't about to change herself for others. Turbo changed everything about himself in order to become Royalty Vanellope gave up royalty to be herself.

[sunnysideaeggs]

Rhaenyra’s council don’t trust her and undermine her but still want her to be Queen? I swear this makes no sense to me. Surely the King’s command ends the moment he is dead like Alicent said. Instead of the writers constantly making the councils on both sides just go off on what Viserys said they should have given them personalities and chosen to have Rhaenyra or Aegon as the monarch for their own personal gain

look and i would kinda be cool with it if they made it pretty clear that the black council is there because they found rhaenyra’s cause to be more advantageous to their interests. reluctant allies exist, westeros is full of them, see robert marrying cersei when he can barely stand the lannisters. the tyrells are also a very good example of ally, they pledge their support in exchange for proximity to power or for vengeance. we have clear motivation and everyone understands it.

but they don’t want to make it that way. it’s all ‘oh, our rightful queen!’ trying to ride on daenerys’ kind of divine right. and it’s so disrespectful. are we supposed to believe that a lord would watch his castle be raided, his people killed, his counsel unheard and then the tyrant he calls queen slaps him on the face and threatens him? and that he wouldn’t hate this woman’s guts even a little? i would be rowing in a boat to king’s landing and kneel to the greens at this point.

we kinda know why team greens are team green, they have different motivations, they want different things and that is to be expected in the game of thrones. but all rhaenyra has to offer are the words of her daddyyy and fits to throw around. of course her council is filled to the brim with npcs that are only there to either complain to her so she can roll her eyes or praise her so that the audience remembers how khaleesi she is.

[viamutationis]

OH GREY WARDEN, WE'RE REALLY IN IT NOW.

ID in alt text, notes and oc infodump under the cut! PLEASE ask me about them they're my new babygirl of the week

Yeah. Ben-Hassrath Cousland is wild, I know. This was one of those 3 am thoughts that became a beloved oc and now they're my canon protag. Basically: She was being trained to be House Cousland's left hand to spy within the noble courts and intercept threats to her family's rule, and a large part of that meant being covertly sent to Orlais to train as a bard. Buuuut the bardmaster she studied under was an undercover Hissrad, and she wound up being converted to the Qun by her. Teenage Laurentia was in a spot where, like every kid, she was questioning the Andrastian beliefs she was raised with and all the unfair things she noticed in her society, so she was very open to the Qun.

Her role once she was sent back home was basically just to send reports detailing the inner workings of the Ferelden nobility and to be aware of any Tal-Vashoth activity in the area. Pretty benign shit, and the former task is what she was doing for her family anyway. Still recruited by the Wardens the normal way, via Duncan doing his "come with me if you want to live" shtick after the fam dies. None of the Blight Crew find her out save for Leliana, because Leli knows everything. She only reveals it to Sten just as he's about to hop on a ship back home LMAOOO.

They're genuinely very compassionate and sweet. A lil whimsical. Highly loyal and protective. Very lawful good (emphasis on lawful). It's a weird sort of internal reconciling - they are genuinely kind to most people and love listening to others' issues and helping them out. It just so happens that this makes them an excellent spy, because they're exactly the sort of person people feel comfortable opening up to, and they see no issue with passing relevant information on to the powers they spy for. The kindness is genuine, but it's also a tool, if that makes sense. Their duty comes before any attachments. On that Master Coercion grindset.

No romance because they're aro, but they do have a little homoerotic espionage cat and mouse goin on with Leliana (singing campfire songs and trading stories and braiding each others' hair included). They get along with all their companions besides Morrigan and Oghren, and even Morrigan is more just.. cordial passive aggression.

They exist in the same worldstate as my Orlesian Warden-Commander Gavriel! He's a veteran warden who joins them on the road after Lothering because his ass snuck into Ferelden to help the Wardens solo, and then he'll later become the WC while they become Arlessa because they have more political experience and he has more military experience.

They generally make the nicey nice choices, albeit not where magic is concerned, and even then it's purely out of an abundance of caution. They do NOT annul the Circle, they do that secret third option where you tell Greagoir there could still be blood mages so he puts the mages into quarantine and Wynne still joins you but the game counts it as siding with the Templars. They let Isolde kill Connor, rip lil dude. (Not like they have a choice, they would rather that than the blood magic anyway, but they kill Jowan soooooo.) Besides that, all nicey choices. Bhelen on the throne, Anvil destroyed, Zathrian reconciles and everybody lives, Ashes are not tainted, Loghain recruited, Alistair and Anora rule jointly, Gavriel and Morrigan know they'd never agree to the Dark Ritual so they do it behind Laurentia's back and nobody dies lmao.

Small notes on their disabilities: Wynne was the healer that did their cleft lip surgeries as a kid!! Their last surgery was when they were 6, so they do remember her :D & their hearing aids are lyrium-infused lazurite, the runes are all enchantments that combine to make it collect and amplify sound like an actual HA does. I love bullshitting magic technology.

Their mabari is named Princess, because they got her when they were 10, okay.

[sweetestpopcorn]

Hello popcorn! Could you send me the link to the source that says that Daemon didn't exist in Martin's drafts? please

Hi there,

A very special thank you to @xenonwitch who helped me to answer this ask and retrieved most of the screenshots used here :) you rock lady!

So, there is multiple evidence highlighting that Daemon was not created until around 2012, which would mean his character was born only after the release of "A Dance with Dragons", more specifically around the time "The World of Ice and Fire" was being written by Elio and Linda with George's help. It was around this time that George wrote the Dance and created I would say most of the information and characters we know of today. He actually gave Elio and Linda so much material that they couldn't use it all and afterwards George published much of it in the short stories "The Princess and the Queen" and "The Rogue Prince", even later (around 2017) using it when he compiled his fake history in "Fire and Blood". If you go to the original link of the screenshot below here you can the sources listed in the text for yourself

It is no secret that since he began writing A Game of Thrones, that George has changed several aspects of the Targaryens. For instance, Rhaenyra was originally only one year older than Aegon II, though as confirmed by Elio that they were never meant to be fully-blooded siblings and from the first family tree in 1999 George meant for Rhaenyra to have an Arryn mom and Aegon a Hightower mom originally named Lysa (hehe). I think Alicent has a much better ring to it personally. Later he actually changed their age difference from 1 year to 9 years, and later still to a decade's difference. I do remember a time when it was 9 years actually instead of the 10. But with Rhaenyra being born in 97 AC and Aegon in 107 AC that would make it 10 years.

Aegon III and Viserys II have existed since the original family tree, but of the two originally only Aegon III was Rhaenyra's son. Viserys was meant to Aegon III's fourth son. George changed this when he realised timeline wise it wouldn't work.

I do own an edition in which this is shown in the appendix but currently I don't have it with me. However, if someone else has it feel free to add it to this thread.

There were other changes to the story being made throughout the years, including some confusion regarding who Alysanne's father was, and while doing the research for this I actually saw that it was never Maegor unlike I know many of us thought.

Critically, a number of changes were done to the character of Rhaenyra. First she had been given a Lannister husband with whom she had no children. This was no earlier than 1999. Later, that was changed for him to become Lyonel Strong, Hand of the King, with whom she would have three (legitimate) children that would all perish during the Dance.

Below you can see the information regarding House Strong while Lyonel was her husband and this is from “A Song of Ice and Fire Campaign Guide” published July 2010:

There was a male Targaryen she was known to have married after husband#1 who would father Aegon III and in this moment of time Viserys III. But no other information was known about him. This was Rhaenyra's wiki page from 2013. Once again, no Daemon.

In fact, around this time people were speculating what was her relationship with Targaryen Husband with suggestions ranging from brother to cousin.

Also note what Elio says regarding "A really notable figure or two are completely missing."

Discussion goes on, and yes, it does seem he only came to be as a character in 2012. There was evidence of some foundation being lain for him, but nothing concrete - i.e., no name, no specific relationship to her, no details whatsoever, just a male Targaryen figure who would be the father of Aegon III and Viserys II

And even more importantly and related to my point that Daemon did NOT exist in the first version of George's family tree has noted by Elio himself below:

Other evidence of him not existing comes from the main books themselves where although many characters are mentioned, including a Hand named Otto Hightower - you can look for this yourself, sorry I don't have the electronic copies and this was already a lot of work for me and xenonwitch so this is your homework hehe - there is no mention whatsoever of Daemon Targaryen.

This is particularly compelling since many other Targaryens are mentioned either when they are specifically talking about them remembering them, OR when something they created appears - e.g., the Sept that Baelor erected, the Red Keep Maegor had build etc. Yet there is no mention of Daemon anywhere with relation to the Gold Cloaks, something that would be mandatory given his established importance to them, critically the fact that he gave the City Watch their gold cloaks, which yes is a thing in the main books, but the same cannot be said of Daemon Targaryen. This would have been another great opportunity to mention him, as notable members of the City Watch, just like Prince Aemon the Dragonknight is mentioned as a notable member of the Kingsguard. But once again, no mention of Daemon is given.

Yet another opportunity would be in relation to Daemon Blackfyre who existed and who we are told in "The World of Ice and Fire" to have been named after Daena's grandfather who she admired. Yet once again, this does not happen. Related to this please see the point made by Elio above regarding him not existing when Daemon Blackfyre was created. That was added AD - After Daemon, whose earliest mention was, as far as evidence shows, at around 2012-2013.

Lesson of the day, like much the rest of what George writes, Targaryen history was a garden that he shaped along the way. Crucial aspects of the story were missing from "A Game of Thrones" all the way to the last book "A Dance with Dragons".

If one wants to talk about the books one needs to use and refer to "Fire and Blood" (Conquest to Dance) and "The World of Ice and Fire" (post-Dance) which holds up until now the most accurate and true information about the pre-asoiaf characters. Referring to books like "A Feast for Crows" is pointless and shows a lack of understanding of how the Targaryen history and pre-asoiaf history was written, and can only result in statements and information that used to be true and canon, but no longer are true or canon, and characterization of certain character becoming non-canon.

If a butterfly can change the course of history, try to imagine what you get when you base your Rhaenyra on an account where there was no Daemon.

In sum, no, George was not even close to having all of his history and pre-asoiaf characters during his writing of the main books. Yes, he changed a lot and we need to update content published before "The World of Ice and Fire". Daemon Targaryen remains a fairly new character in his universe, and one you will only get to fully enjoy and understand the genius of if you consider the ASOIAF version of his character.

[the-californicationist]

WIP Game

Thanks for the tag @ethereal-night-fairy

Rules: In a new post, post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how nondescript or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet and tell us about it!

I have taken a big step back lately because of my work, but I do have some things I'm slowly putting paragraphs into.

Long Fics in Progress

Ursa Major - Bear!Price x Female Reader - John Price is a hot, lumberjack werebear. This is the most self-indulgent fic I've ever written, and I will not apologize. Updates are weekly, for the most part.

The Sin Eater - Monster!Price x Female Reader - A dark, monster fic based off of the Jekyll and Hyde paradigm. Co-authored with amazing @vampirekilmerfic, but updates are extremely slow. It's a hard fic for me to write.

The Window - Poly!141 x Female Reader - Pregnancy fic with a poly/reverse harem theme. This should've stayed a one-shot, honestly. I don't know what the heck I'm doing with this.

The Fox & The Hound - PornStar!Soap x Female Reader - I love this fic so much. I should just stop, but I can't let it go. For some reason, this story just lives in my heart rent-free.

My Brother's Keeper - Regency!Price x Female Reader - Unpublished arranged marriage childhood friends-to-lovers dual virginity fic with a huge twist. It'll probably come out midsummer? I think.

Doubt Thou the Stars - Space!Price x Alien!Female OC - Unpublished space fic where John Price is basically Malcolm Reynolds from Firefly. Self-indulgent and weird. I might never publish it because it's so odd.

The Cube - Ghost x Female Reader - We don't talk about The Cube. But, it's there... lurking.

One-Shots in Progress

Down the Hatch - Gaz x Female Reader - Gaz convinces you to fuck him inside a tank.

Pas de Deux - Ghost x Ballerina!Female Reader - Inspired by an ask, but a bit of a divergence from the original request. Ghost falls for Gaz's sister as she performs as Odette in Swan Lake.

Against Medical Advice - Price x Female Reader - Inspired by an ask where Price gets shot in the thigh and ends up convincing you, his medic, to get nasty with him anyways.

A Knight's Errand - Medieval!141 x Female Reader - In order to avoid a dangerous foreign king from being eligible to marry their queen, her knights work hard to ensure that she is with-child, securing her position on the throne. (I think this fic already exists? I don't remember the name of it, though. But, that's why it's unpublished. Maybe it's a two-cakes situation, but I don't want to publish it and have it be so similar that it repeats their original idea.)

I hope some of these are interesting to y'all! Feel free to ask me about them if you have questions.

No pressure tags: @vampirekilmerfic @gemmahale @kit-williams @deadbranch @ceilidho

[amber-laughs]

Ned and Lyanna's Pale Blue Roses

There is so much yet to be revealed from the Tower of Joy but the most notable missing detail is Jon Snow himself. He has no place in Ned’s memory of Lyanna’s death. Ned explicitly says only he and Howland Reed left the Tower of Joy alive that day, but we know this can’t be true. They left the tower with another living breathing human being and Ned knows that too. So what gives?

“I might mention, though, that Ned's account, which you refer to, was in the context of a dream... and a fever dream at that. Our dreams are not always literal.” - George R.R. Martin. Not only that but Ned himself admits there is much he simply blacked out from “They had found him still holding her body, silent with grief. The little crannogman, Howland Reed, had taken her hand from his. Ned could recall none of it.”

and may I remind you “A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness” A Clash of Kings - Daenerys IV 

I think Ned’s mind, through his trauma, grief and determination to leave the past behind, has altered his memories. I think Ned has mentioned Jon almost everytime he mentions the scene in the tower. I think Jon is the blue rose petals from Ned’s memories.

"Eddard!" she called. A storm of rose petals blew across a blood-streaked sky, as blue as the eyes of death. A Game of Thrones - Eddard X 

If Lyanna’s voice was as damaged as Ned claims “The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper” and yet he could hear her calling for him, surely he could hear a baby crying. Surely Ned knew the Kingsguard would never let him, a rebel whose cause had just murdered Aegon and Rhaenys in cold blood, anywhere near Rhaegar’s last living son. So as Jon’s cries blow across the blood streaked sky Ned knows what comes next.

“The fever had taken her strength and her voice had been faint as a whisper, but when he gave her his word, the fear had gone out of his sister's eyes. Ned remembered the way she had smiled then, how tightly her fingers had clutched his as she gave up her hold on life, the rose petals spilling from her palm, dead and black.” A Game of Thrones - Eddard I

So was Jon just lying on the floor of the tower? He had to have been somewhere? His mother’s arms? Until her muscles gave out and fell to the bed she laid on maybe.

“But Jon isn’t dead, the rose petals are dead.” True but the petals Ned claims he saw in the wind weren’t dead either. Jon Snow isn’t dead but Lyanna’s son is. He never existed. Rhaegar’s children are all dead. Only Ned Stark’s bastard remains.

"The night of our wedding feast, the first time we shared a bed, he called me by your sister's name. He was on top of me, in me, stinking of wine, and he whispered Lyanna." Ned Stark thought of pale blue roses, and for a moment he wanted to weep. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

Cersei is currently speaking of Lyanna but make no mistake, this conversation is wrapped around Jon Snow. 

Ned thought, If it came to that, the life of some child I did not know, against Robb and Sansa and Arya and Bran and Rickon, what would I do? Even more so, what would Catelyn do, if it were Jon's life, against the children of her body? He did not know. He prayed he never would. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

He doesn’t list Jon with his biological children but Ned’s saying he’d react with the same paternal instinct and, unlike Catelyn, he wouldn’t save them at the expense of Jon. That’s why he shifts to it to her, she’s the unknown variable in this. Ned doesn’t need to wonder because he’s already done it. He’s chosen Jon’s safety for fifteen years knowing the Starks could be executed over his secret.

What do you take me for? You've a bastard of your own, I've seen him. Who was the mother, I wonder? Some Dornish peasant you raped while her holdfast burned? A whore? Or was it the grieving sister, the Lady Ashara? She threw herself into the sea, I'm told. Why was that? For the brother you slew, or the child you stole? Tell me, my honorable Lord Eddard, how are you any different from Robert, or me, or Jaime?" "For a start," said Ned, "I do not kill children. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII

Cersei asks a few questions here that in large boil down to “Who is your bastard’s mother?” Ned’s only response is “I do not kill children.” He’s given her his answer. Probably the most answer honest he ever gave about Jon. All he wants to do for Cersei is keep her children from the same fate as Rhaegar’s. He’s done it successfully once before, that his blueprint here. But of course he won’t allow his mind to go there. He never dwells on Jon’s parentage, not even in the privacy of his own mind. “(…) and he whispered Lyanna." Ned Stark thought of pale blue roses, and for a moment he wanted to weep.” He thinks of pale blue roses, of the innocent children at stake. Of the death of his sister and how she died and he wants to weep.

The Kings of Winter watched him pass with eyes of ice, and the direwolves at their feet turned their great stone heads and snarled. Last of all, he came to the tomb where his father slept, with Brandon and Lyanna beside him. "Promise me, Ned," Lyanna's statue whispered. She wore a garland of pale blue roses, and her eyes wept blood. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XIII

They are angry with him, the Kings of Winter, Lyanna, there is something he didn’t do. In Jon’s own dreams it’s the Kings of Winter he sees on his way to his mother’s grave. They try to tell him. They scream he’s not a Stark, they want him to know just as much as she does. Her pale blue roses still haunt him while she cries for the promises they both know he can no longer keep. When he slept, he dreamed: dark disturbing dreams of blood and broken promises. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XV

Ned Stark reached out his hand to grasp the flowery crown, but beneath the pale blue petals the thorns lay hidden. He felt them clawing at his skin, sharp and cruel, saw the slow trickle of blood run down his fingers, and woke, trembling, in the dark. A Game of Thrones - Eddard XV

For certain only Ned and Howland Reed knew the truth. A good argument for Benjen, who Ned’s heard is dead beyond the Wall. No he’ll never tell Jon the truth no matter how much he wants now wants to, “The thought of Jon filled Ned with a sense of shame, and a sorrow too deep for words. If only he could see the boy again, sit and talk with him…”  Secrets hidden beneath pale blue petals never to be revealed. 

[greenqueenhightower]

On Why I Think The Sept Scene in 2x03 Actually Worked:

I am a Fire and Blood fan and sometimes a book purist when it comes to the show adaptations, and I understand why the Rhaenicent sept scene has upset many fans, but I think it worked well in grounding the conflict between Rhaenyra and Alicent for S2 within a cinematic/television universe. For better or worse, the writers, directors, and showrunners have to establish the Alicent-Rhaenyra feud all over again in S2, because of the possible new viewers tuning in who haven't watched S1. Therefore, for storytelling purposes, it makes sense why Alicent and Rhaenyra needed a "showdown." Let me explain:

The season picks up after Lucerys' death, and it is obvious that House Targaryen has split in two. This season's promotion made it very clear that we will deal with two factions, the Greens and the Blacks, who owe their existence to two main characters and principal figures: Alicent and Rhaenyra. Now, for a clueless viewer as to what bonds and divides the two, Alicent and Rhaenyra must interact this season for the feud between the two factions and their houses to be believable. As early as 2x01, we have Rhaenicent parallels with Rhaenyra lighting a funeral pyre and Alicent lighting candles in the sept. Episode 2x02 gave us motherhood parallels and built on how Alicent and Rhaenyra deal with grief. As the season progresses, the tension between Rhaenyra and Alicent heightens.

The theme of 2x03 is inevitable tragedy, the root cause of which is lost down the centuries, and once again, Alicent and Rhaenyra mirror each other in how they view the conflict destined to destroy their families. Rhaenyra is adamant in her resolve that Alicent has usurped her throne, and Alicent is relentless in her support of her son's rights. They are both blind to their own failings and actions until these are pointed at. Having Alicent point out Rhaenyra's faults and vice versa further heightens the tension and brings two polar opposites (the heads of the Green and Black factions as the promos and banners have established) into a frontal collision.

This confrontation, although I would have preferred it to portray Alicent and Rhaenyra as more power-hungry and vengeful, was necessary for their characters to finally strip away any delusions and become even more conscious players later on in the season. Alicent must accept that she wished for Aegon to become king because that was her duty to herself and her family, and Rhaenyra must satisfy her inner justification for plundering the realm to war since she has no further qualms for claiming back what's hers.

After the sept scene, both Alicent and Rhaenyra seem ready to reach out for more power and claim it themselves, not because Viserys wished it, but because it becomes a matter of personal ambition, self-preservation, and protection of their families. At the end of the sept scene, Alicent and Rhaenyra are left to mull over the startling revelations about themselves and their own motivations. They are closer to playing the game because they want to rather than because they've found themselves in the greater scheme of things.

Seeing each other face-to-face was the last straw that defied friendship and peace. They both know the war is inescapable, and that they are powerless to prevent it. To me, at least, the scene made a compelling statement regarding the inevitability of war and maintained the tension between Rhaenyra and Alicent needed for the show to progress.

Overall, I think that the Rhaenicent sept scene is justifiable and works well for storytelling purposes. Remember that we are watching a TV show instead of reading the book, and the showrunners have already established a bond between Alicent and Rhaenyra that was non-existent in the book. Viewing the scene in its appropriate cinematic framework does justice to the showrunners' vision of Alicent and Rhaenyra being the faces of this war.

*Spoilers:*

The show seems to be building tension for the great big Rhaenicent reunion at the finale. It makes perfect sense why Alicent and Rhaenyra have to interact at least once before that.

[howtofightwrite]

Does Ser Arys Oakheart’s performance in The Queenmaker in AFFC (killing a handful of men and jumping clear of his palfrey before being swiftly dispatched by Areo Hotah) suggest a decent amount of martial competence on Arys’ part, in your view?

I’m going to make George R.R. Martin fans angry again and say, no. However, this is because I don’t feel any of Martin’s characters (throughout his work) really demonstrate any degree of martial competence. A lot of Martin’s characters aren’t supposed to possess any martial competence, but even the ones who are meant to don’t have it. Their “martial competence” is roughly the equivalent of action figures being angrily smashed together. For me, his fight scenes/battle scenes are the weakest part of his writing and I tune them out. Martin heavily focuses on “ironic” surprises and subversions of expectations like in the scene with Arys Oakheart, where everything is going well and then the character is just randomly and unceremoniously offed.

Boom. Goodbye.

“Like they would be in real life!”

I’m going to imagine someone yelling that because I’m sure someone, somewhere wants to.

Look, unlike Starke, I read A Feast for Crows and I genuinely have no memory of this character. They have been memory holed. They are gone. (Which is wild because I remember random minor character deaths from a lot of other major and minor fantasy properties that I read as a tween ages ago.)

The thing about reality is that real people are also capable of the following: Strategic and tactical awareness, long term strategic planning, working in unison with their fellow soldiers, and, yes, that includes knights in the Middle Ages. Knights in the Middle Ages might’ve (sometimes) been wealthy bastards, but they had to be functionally aware of violence and its impacts or they weren’t knights for very long.

Martin does not understand how armies and professional combatants function, their purpose, or their place in maintaining order in a feudal society. The irony is that politics are not his forte. His combat sequences read like they were written by someone who spent a great deal of time reading original historical accounts and not enough time thinking from the perspective of the people committing those gruesome atrocities. Make no mistake, medieval warfare was far, far more gruesome than anything you’ll find in Game of Thrones and the most terrifying part is the reasoning behind those atrocities was actually sound. Once you’re past the shock value, GOT is fairly comforting because the majority of the time no one makes sense. There’s a moral lesson hidden in the undercurrent ready to bludgeon the audience when they least expect it and all the violence works from that perspective, and all of it is written very specifically with the audience’s reaction in mind. Martin doesn’t seem to care how it works both on the technical front or in the utilization of violence to deliver narrative catharsis, he cares how the audience will react.

His violence doesn’t feel good, which is his intention, he doesn’t want it to feel good, but it also doesn’t feel bad. The violence just sort of exists.

One of the pieces of tragedy that is fundamentally important is a sense of foreboding. In fiction, death flags aren’t necessarily bad. In a tragedy, they’re necessary. Character death doesn’t need to be surprising to be meaningful. In fact, death is often more meaningful when the audience knows it’s coming. Whether it’s because they want the character to die or because they don’t want them to die. Their death creates narrative catharsis. The catharsis releases the tension, it feels good. Satisfaction through tears. When the audience and the narrative knows death is coming, it creates tension. If you invest early, the tension builds, and builds, and builds until it pops. The trouble is that, one way or another, the author has to invest in the character for that to happen. The surprise can be how the character dies, the manner of their death, and even who kills them, but not the fact they die. Shock value is sudden. The reason to use shock sparingly is that it lacks a lasting payout and eventually the audience acclimates. Too much shock obfuscates the narrative importance of a character’s death and shortens the long term impact of their loss. The impact of the death ends up as sudden as the death itself. Here, then gone, then forgotten.

In a well-structured tragedy, it doesn’t matter whether the audience cares about the character who dies or not. It helps, but the focus of the impact is on how it affects the other characters, how that loss is felt, and the way it’s internalized. An observation that’s always stuck with me is when I was in college studying Shakespeare, and my professor told us that Shakespeare structured his tragedies and his comedies the same way. They’re the same until the fourth act, and it’s the characters’ decisions leading into the final crisis which ultimately decides whether the story will end happily or tragically. All Shakespeare’s characters are important cogs in his play (including the bear.) When one of them goes, the narrative and the characters feel it. If a character is never important to the story, then the impact of their loss can’t be felt.

Martin’s characters don’t fight smart. They don’t fight cleverly. They don’t really fight stupid either. They fight with the combined equivalent of a single brain cell failing to function harmoniously. Probably the standout sequence for me that demonstrates this point is the Battle of the Crab from House of the Dragon. They had two dragons, a beach, an isolated cave system where their enemies were hiding to get away from the fire. They had corpses, and they had tar. And what didn’t they do?

Set shit on fire.

Smoke. Cave. Smoke. Cave. Smoke. Cave. Smoke.

The easiest and most low energy plan in the world that should be obvious to anyone who has ever cooked in an enclosed space. While this is a great way to signal that your characters suck at warfare, the characters involved were supposed to be the ones good at it! People being burned alive as they got smoked out of a cave is more gruesome than what actually happened and would have demonstrated the power of the dragons a lot better. Instead of, you know, the mighty House Targaryen being outwitted by… a cave.

If the dangers of dragons could be mitigated by a cave, people would just live in caves and not castles like they do on Pern.

Thank you for listening to my fanwank.

(No, the presence of saltwater would not have, in fact, saved the pirates. However, the Targaryens could have tarred the driftwood, set it ablaze, and let the tide carry it inside in addition to setting fire at every entrance like real military tacticians. Which shouldn’t be a reach given that half the army was made up of sailors.)

(They could’ve also used the crabbed up bodies for this with the added bonus of it being extremely horrifying, smelly, and gross.)

(We’re not talking about the Crab Army.)

(I mean it!)

-Michi

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[mercurytojupiter]

chapter two - the labyrinth

a/n: ariadne is so funny to me like theres nothing like pure deflection to make me giggle!!

warnings: farleigh being farleigh, which includes mentions of underage sex, drugs, drinking, cigarettes and sex 18+

fic summary: ariadne gavin and her childhood best friend turned enemy return to saltburn for the last time

Ariadne lounges on the loveseat in Farleigh's room while he lies on the floor just below her. She had missed this. The feeling of just existing in a space with him with no obligation to speak or even interact. Sharing the room was more than enough.

Farleigh sits up from his position, head now just beside her knee. "So, did you get pissed 'cause you heard I was fucking Vaillancourt?"

"Mm," Ariadne mutters, neither a confirmation nor a denial.

"Were you," Farleigh swings onto the couch beside her, his long limbs splaying in every direction. "jealous?"

Ariadne coughs. "Well. No, I wouldn't say jealous."

It wasn't. Not because jealous isn't an apt word, but it isn't a good enough descriptor of the depth of betrayal and envy she had felt. She didn't think such a word even existed.

"If I ask Vee, will she tell me the same thing?" Farleigh mumbles.

Ariadne curses in her head. "I walked in on you two. You were the only person in the entire country I trusted and you were having sex with her instead of-"

"With you?" Farleigh asks suggestively.

"Instead of taking care of me like I took care of you. I moved to England to help you progress and you just threw yourself at every breathing human in a five-mile radius. I literally couldn't keep a hold on you."

Farleigh sighs. "You were so independent, Ari. You knew exactly who you were and what you wanted and I felt a little behind the curve. I didn't want to hold you back."

"Well, you were all I had to depend on, so, of course, I was independent," Ariadne grumbles.

Farleigh throws an arm around her shoulder. "I should have been there for you, Ari."

"And I shouldn't have tried to run away from you. Friends?" She concedes.

"Best." He agrees. "Now, the fuck are you reading?"

"Game of Thrones. It's like fantasy political science." She explains excitedly, launching into a rant about the complex characters she had recently found herself enveloped in.

She is so deep in her explanation that she doesn't notice how Farleigh's eyes follow her movements, warm and wanting.

Ariadne continues, undeterred. "And Sansa, she's the eldest daughter, she-"

"I missed you," Farleigh says in the middle of her speech.

Ariadne rolls her eyes, "Yeah, whatever Farleigh. We're friends again, but you seemed perfectly content where you were."

And that was the part that made Ariadne embarrassed. Farleigh was comfortable everywhere, and yet somehow, someway, even when they had spent seven years unable to get along, all of her friends were just his friends, or his cousin's, or his cousin's friends.

Ariadne felt like a human leech sometimes when she remembered how Farleigh had gifted her the life she had now.

Farleigh shakes his head, laughing, and lights a blunt. "Well, I guess I'm glad it looked that way."

Ariadne pulls it from his lips, ignoring the soft whine of complaint that emits from his lips while she does so. "You do not get to be the only one high for this conversation. And anyway, what, you weren't comfortable?"

Farleigh gives a little puff of air. "I wasn't ever comfortable without you. You were like, the only person that got my jokes and didn't think I was an asshole."

"Yeah, until you were," Ariadne mentions, breathing the smoke into his face.

"Fair enough," he laughs, and what a beautiful, light sound it is, that laugh. The way his body seems to rock with it, curling and stretching his long limbs to accept the noise.

She really, really wants to kiss him, and so she steels herself by looking away with a snort. "D'ya wanna watch a movie?"

Farleigh shrugs. "High? With you? Fuck let's see it."

Ariadne strolls back to her room, Farleigh hot on her heels, and digs into her suitcase.

"I know it's in here somewhere," she mutters frustratedly.

Farleigh turns on the TV, boots up the DVD player, and has Duncan bring them food for the munchies all before, "I fucking found it!"

Farleigh gives her a look of disbelief. "Pride and Prejudice the film?"

"Well you know I love the book, and this one has Keira Knightley in it!"

"I know, I saw the trailers, just-" he sputters. "Pride and Prejudice? It's kind of a chick flick, Ari." He rolls his eyes but smiles as he positions himself on her bed. He looks so comfortable there which makes her heart stop for just a moment before continuing.

"And? I'm a chick!" Ariadne defends, popping the DVD in.

Ariadne curls onto the bed, Farleigh beside her, as they pass the blunt between the two of them. She feels like she's atop a cloud, Farleigh's long arms wrapped tightly around her as he mumbles into her curly hair about the movie.

Ariadne was never very talkative when high. She was sort of glazed over, simply easing into the air around her, and, as a result, easing into Farleigh's body.

"Hold on, is he being serious? I never actually read the book, it was sorta your thing." Farleigh looks down at her inquisitively. He was so touchy. She didn't dislike it, of course, but she didn't like it either, if only because it was hard to focus on the intimate workings of Lizzie and Darcy when every inch of exposed skin that he touched was on fire.

"Really? Now you have to. I'll give you my copy." Ariadne hums without thinking.

Farleigh nods. "I will take you up on that."

He falls asleep, and she shakes him awake for the Missus Darcy line.

"That's so unrealistic." Farleigh groans.

Ariadne rolls her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you had such extensive experience with living in the Regency era."

"Well," Farleigh says, "I may not be exactly from the eighteen-hundreds, but Saltburn is close enough, and that would never happen."

"Why?" Ariadne asks instinctively.

Farleigh holds her face in his hands, and she suddenly recollects how large they are when his pointer and index finger dig into her hair whilst the heel of his palm rests on her jaw. "Because, my innocent little princess, no rich person can truly be happy."

Ariadne shakes her head. "No."

"No?" Farleigh repeats her, a wide grin across his lips.

"I'm going to be happy one day, and I'm going to be in love with someone who loves me back, I got a tattoo about it. England is not the whole world, and it is definitely not my whole world," She argues, exhaling so close to his face she can see the tiny pores and ridges in his nose.

Farleigh smiles fondly and releases her face, wrapping one arm back around her. "Good luck with that, Ari. Good fucking luck."

She huffs but lets him snuggle his head into the crook of her neck.

She doesn't even notice that when he leaves to get ready for dinner - about halfway through Ten Things I Hate About You - he takes the copy of Pride and Prejudice off of her desk, and she certainly doesn't remember that the copy on her desk has almost a decade's worth of annotations and notes, many of them openly stating Farleigh's name.

For dinner that night, she wears a strappy red dress and Farleigh snorts while zipping it up. "What?" She asks, whipping around to face him.

Farleigh places his hands on her shoulders gently. "It's nothing, you just look like your mom, ya know? When we would go to those fancy cocktail parties with our parents?"

He turns her around by the shoulders to look in the mirror again, and shockingly, she finds that he's right. The straps, the thigh slit, and the bold red lip all scream Vienna Gavin's Daughter.

She also finds that she and Farleigh look good together. He's standing behind her in the mirror and for a moment she sees what she imagines other people could see in them. An intimidating, beautiful couple that could dismiss someone they disliked in an instant.

"We look like Mr. and Mrs. Smith from that Brad Pitt movie." Farleigh stage-whispers in her ear.

"We could be beautiful spies if you were a little stronger." Ariadne smiles at Farleigh through the mirror.

"I exercise!" Farleigh explains, pouting his beautiful lips at her. "I like to go for runs."

"You like to run your mouth, that's for sure," Ariadne mutters.

She turns and looks him over. Something feels off to her. "Go grab a necktie, I don't like the bowtie look, I feel like you belong in the House of Lords."

Dinner is still her least favourite part of staying at Saltburn. It is the most monotonous part of their day, sitting together and pretending like this is who they are.

Oliver stares at Felix like he hung the damn moon, and after a point, it stops being funny and becomes concerning. When dinner ends and they're all headed back to their rooms, Ariadne grabs Felix's sleeve. "Fi, can I talk to you for a second?"

Felix gives her a strange look but falls to the side with her. "What's up, pet?"

"Oliver." She says simply, waiting to see how his face changes.

Felix rubs his temple. "God, not you too."

Ariadne grabs his arm nervously, peeking over her shoulder to make sure Oliver is gone. "I just don't get the best energy off him, Fi."

Felix shakes his head. "Then what energy do you get from him, pet?"

Ariadne has a few choice words for the pit in her gut she's ascribed to Oliver Quick, least of all being that every word from his mouth sounds like a lie, but she has no evidence to the contrary. Weasel-y. Gold-digging. Evil. "Dangerous," she concludes, taking a deep breath.

"He's not dangerous, and even on the off-chance he is, I can handle it," Felix smiles quickly, but she can sense the unease just below it. Felix isn't stupid, and he isn't oblivious, but he dismisses things that don't fit his narrative, and Ariadne genuinely believes some part of him can feel that Oliver doesn't quite line up.

Ariadne sighs, holding his hands. "Felix, one day I'm not going to be here to protect you all the time, you know that, right?"

"C'mon, Ari, what're you on about? The Cattons are immortal," Felix jokes before pausing to turn stern. "Can't you just be nice, Ari? He's trying his best."

Felix at his most stern is about as intimidating to her as a puppy.

"Nice people get murdered." Ariadne deadpans. "One of us has to have our guard up. Besides, Farleigh said-"

Felix cuts her off, the defensive little bitch. "Since when are we putting so much stock into my cousin? I thought you hated each other."

Now that did hurt. She and Farleigh hadn't been kind to each other for the past seven years, but she never thought the Cattons would forget that they had originally been two-of-a-kind, and she definitely never thought they would think she hated him.

"Maybe we don't get along all the time anymore, but at least I know Farleigh. And the guy is a lot of things, shit-stirring asshole included, but he's not a liar. If you won't listen to me, at least listen to him." Ariadne gives him one more pleading look before turning to head back to her room.

[icycoldninja]

Hello! Are You familiar with game of thrones? If not you can ignore this but if you do Can you write a dmc boys +v with a Daenerys like s/o? She has 3 dragons and is immune to fire plus she is an awesome badass queen, but in this case since the dmc world is more modern times she can just be a queen from a far kingdom that is also modern like and happened to meet the guy in her travels.

Sup? Hope you're well! No, I'm not familiar with Game of Thrones, but I can work with what you've given me. Hope you enjoy! 💜

Sparda boys + V x Daenerys-like!Reader headcannons

¤ Dante ¤

-So, you're a mighty queen from a distant kingdom? Dante never thought he'd be meeting royalty, but here he is.

-When he sees your dragons, he freaks. He didn't think those even existed, let alone be standing right in front of him. Then he remembers he and his brother are half demons with magic demon swords, so maybe it's not all that unusual.

-Thinks it's so cool that you're immune to fire--so is he! Now you have something in common.

-He'd love to visit your kingdom someday, if you're willing to take him.

-Bonus points if you let him ride one of your dragons; he's always wanted to soar through the air on a scaly dragon's back, even though he can fly on his own.

■ Vergil ■

-Vergil wasn't too impressed at first. So what if you're royalty? There's plenty of that around.

-Then he sees your three dragons and thinks to himself, damn, if she can tame three of those terrifying beasts, she must be full of POWER.

-After this, Vergil decides it may be in his best interest to get to know you a little more, and in the process, learns about your immunity to fire.

-Now, this is very good because it means you can help him beat up his literally fiery brother whenever the need arises.

-Also wants to visit your kingdom to see if there any ways to get POWER and MOTIVATION there.

-However, do not, under any circumstances, make him ride your dragon. He isn't too fond of riding on animals, and besides, he can fly on his own.

□ Nero □

-Nero is indifferent to your royal lineage, but he thinks it's great that you, as a queen, get time to travel. It seems he's under the impression that all kings and queens are confined to their kingdoms and never allowed to leave.

-He immediately hits it off with your dragons; for some reason, they like him, and for an even stranger reason, he likes them.

-Your fire immunity makes you the perfect person to call whenever he wants to have a barbecue. No one ever needs to worry about getting burnt by the fire because you're around to deal with it for them.

-Nero isn't too fond of travel, so it's highly unlikely he'll visit your kingdom, but if you ask nicely and maybe bribe him with affection, he'll give in.

-Loves riding your dragons for two reasons: 1), it's fun, and 2), it saves more time because unlike his father and uncle, he can't keep up his Devil Trigger for very long.

● V ●

-Is very surprised that a fair and beautiful queen such as yourself is wandering so far from home. Should you not be within your palace, governing your subjects?

-Your badass-ery soon answers his question. The way you command everyone's attention and generally just run the place is inspiring.

-That, added to your 3 awesome dragons, only serves to impress him further.

-V gets along very nicely with your dragons, as do his familiars, when they are around. He's an experienced pet owner himself (kinda) and is more than willing to trade tips and tricks with you.

-Would absolutely love to visit your kingdom someday; the scenery, regardless of what it may be, will surely inspire his writing spirit.

-Wants to ride your dragon too. He's used to riding Nightmare and Griffon, so it won't be much of an issue for him.