#shae my beloved

[viv-annelore]

[radios-arcade]

a commission for @anarchy-and-piglins and their rad flowershop au! Techno is a sad sad little guy in it and i love that so much/j

[lenzimanot]

sometimes I miss my demigod child of d.emeter 🥹🥹

[slowwshoww]

a fun thing about watching old seasons of drag race for the first time is that if i want i can check and see when queens i don't like go home

it also means i can stan yvie oddly for being what feels like the first queen in the history of 9000 episodes of drag race to win her lip synch for the crown w/o doing a stupid ass reveal she kept all her clothes on and still won Bitch

[sailorshadzter]

recently this post circled back into my notifications

& it struck me with some inspiration. so i present to you... part 1 of what will likely have additional parts at some point! shout out to that original anon for asking the question & to whoever liked/reblogged and brought it back to my attention~!

The day he swears his oath to Sansa, their father pulls him aside.

From the side of the glittering room they watch the handsome knights and beautiful ladies mingle among one another in the Red Keep, celebrating the betrothal of their golden-haired prince and the beautiful Northern born girl, one of the happiest days King’s Landing has seen in the months of their king’s rule. “That is what you must protect,” Ned Stark says softly, gesturing towards the young redheaded girl, her golden gown swinging as Joffrey elegantly twirls her out and back in once more. She’s smiling, she’s radiant, she’s beautiful. “That smile, that happiness, that girl.” Ned forces his eyes from the sight that is his daughter, grown far too old to be that little girl that used to sit upon his knees. “Promise me, Jon, promise me that you will protect her with your life.” He cannot explain it, but there is a chill to his heart, a concern that far surpasses that of a father leaving his daughter for the first time. “Protect her, Jon… Promise me.” Somehow, in the depths of his mind, he hears Lyanna whispering the very same thing.

Jon turns back, just so he might spare his half sister one last glance… His heart fills with warmth, threatening to overflow. When he looks back to his father, twin gray eyes meet, and Jon nods, his single, solemn oath.

His vow he would never forget.

[ x x x ]

Six weeks later, their father is dead. 

Jon wakes each and every morning with a heaviness in his heart- the anguish of this loss met with the blow of facing her at every turn. He knows it to be wrong, horrible even, but he cannot help but to blame Sansa for what’s happened. He cannot forget the sight of her over the last few weeks, with her hair twisted in braids to match the queen’s. Why even the very day of their father’s execution she had stood up there in her lovely silk gown, auburn hair braided back with gold thread, her hair an exact copy of Cersei’s. Even her dress, which once had reflected her Northern heritage, became more and more Southern with each passing day. 

And so he cannot help to feel bitter, for while she’s become part of the royal family like she was born to it, he is an outsider. While he mourns deeply for the father they’ve lost, she smiles and waves from the balcony on Joffrey’s arm, as if it does not affect her in the slightest. 

Worse yet…

There’s that rumor that it was her testimony, her words, that sent their father to the headsman. 

And Jon truly cannot fathom forgiveness, no matter how loudly his father’s words echo in his mind… Protect her, Jon… Promise me… How could he protect her when she was a traitor? When she had sacrificed their beloved father for her own benefit… To integrate herself with the family she was to become a part of, as if they mattered at all, as if her own Stark name meant so very little to her. 

His mind ceases it’s whirling as he approaches her door, coming as he does every morning, to fetch her down for the morning meal. When he knocks, it takes a moment longer than usual for her handmaiden to appear, opening the door with her usual curtsy. This time however, Sansa does not appear at her back, ready to go; instead, the handmaiden, Shae was her name, beckons for him to step inside, so he does, crossing the threshold and allowing the door to swing closed behind him. “My lady will be just a moment,” Shae says in her accented voice, dark eyes meeting Jon’s- for a moment it feels as if she wishes to say something more, but she turns and disappears through the door to Sansa’s bed chamber. 

It takes but a few minutes before the door swings open and Sansa steps out, Shae on her heels. “Good morning,” she greets as he turns to face her, offering her usual smile, hands clasped before her. Jon notices at once there’s a paleness to her face that’s not been there before, her blue eyes tired in their gaze. She looks unwell, in truth, now that he looks a bit closer. The rose gown, the same once she wore the day of their father’s execution, hangs from her frame in places it once did not.

Gods, how had he missed it?

Shame floods him, hot and steady, his father’s voice ringing in his ears… Protect her… 

He was not fit to be her guard, not fit to be her brother; in the weeks it’s been since they had lost their father, had lost Arya, he had forgotten what it had felt like to want to keep her safe. In his own grief, his own need to put things to understanding, he’s perhaps unfairly accused her of doing things she’s not even done. Not once has he stopped to think of how she felt in the aftermath of their father’s death. Not once has he stopped to think of what the world around them would say if she didn’t side with her husband to be in this situation. Not once has he stopped to think about what would happen to her if she didn’t go along with every single thing the Lannister’s did or said… He’s met Joffrey, after all, there was no disagreeing with him. 

“Jon…” Her voice draws him back and he swallows, holding his head a little higher. “Are you alright?” She questions and he nods, offering her his arm as he always does, not inwardly flinching when she places her hand to his elbow. Her skin, which was once soft and warm, is now cold to the touch. 

Another dagger to his aching heart. 

They walk down to the main floor of the palace, to the great hall where they will dine with the rest of the court- there Joffrey waits for her, his knights hovering at his either side. “My lady,” he greets with a sickly sweet smile, his green eyes flashing dangerously in the torchlight. “You look beautiful this morning,” he continues, offering her his arm instead of Jon’s. She spares Jon just one last glance before she steps forward, taking Joffrey’s arm so they might walk through the double doors, leaving Jon there to hear his last words: “... A walk after the meal, my lady, it will do you good to have some fresh air…” 

[ x x x ]

That night, he stands at the door to her room, concern flowing through his veins. 

She had not attended the evening meal nor could he find her in any of her usual places, forcing him to check this one final place. He raises his hand to knock and after what feels like an eternity, the door creaks open just enough for him to see the brown eye peering through the crack. “My lady is indisposed,” Shae says without preamble, making way to close the door, but Jon slips his foot through the crack before she can. “My lady is abed,” she says, sharper now, in a tone which dares him to argue.

But before he can open his mouth to do so, he hears Sansa’s soft voice calling from within… “It’s alright Shae, let him in.” And though she looks as if she would rather do anything else, Shae sighs and steps back, pulling the door open and allowing Jon to step through. 

He does not see her at first, but then catches sight of her, curled up into the window seat on the eastern wall. She wears her dressing robe, her long red hair falling down her back in soft waves, her feet tucked up beneath her. “Sansa…” He speaks her name the first time in what feels like an eternity- the title she holds no longer anything but family. She stiffens, but slowly does she turn to face him, her feet making their way back to the floor as she comes to fully face him.

And just like that, his world stops spinning.

The lips that curve around the syllable of his name are broken and bruised, proof of a fist that has connected with it. He’s rushing forward then, just as she’s rising up to her full height, his heart frenzied and his eyes widening. “Seven hells Sansa, what happened to you?” He nearly shouts and she flinches, the gesture filling him with even more rage. “Sansa, tell me what happened…” He encourages, softer now, watching as her battered lip quivers with her fight to keep from crying. 

Instead of answering, she pushes past him, shaking her head. From where she stands across the room, Shae swallows against her own emotions; she alone knew what this girl suffered through and though she often begged her to tell someone, anyone else, her lady was unwilling, though it was fear that prevented her. But perhaps now, for the first time since her father’s death, she might open up to the one person who could protect her from the abuse. And so she ducks out of the room, quietly closing the door to her bedchamber behind her, giving them just a few minutes of privacy.

“Sansa…” He’s coaxing her quietly, his hand slowly reaching out as to not startle her. He turns her back around, that same hand moving upwards, cupping her chin so he might get a better look at the injury she’s suffered. Gently he swipes his thumb across it, across her plump lower lip, his chest tight and his heart skipping a beat. “Did Joffrey…”

At once she’s taking a step back, out of his grasp, shaking his head. “Not him,” she says softly, hauntingly, making him realize at once what she means. Not Joffrey, but rather one of his so-called knights- men twice her size, twice her strength. To think a man of any kind would put his hands upon a woman, let alone the woman he would someday call his queen. 

Anger surges through him, white hot and rampant, unlike any feeling he’s ever felt before. It doesn’t matter if this was the first time, or even if it would be the only time. They would pay for putting their hands upon her in such a violent way. “I won’t let them get away with this,” he snarls, turning on his heel as if he means to storm from her room, as if he means to rush into these knights chambers and beat them relentlessly for what they’ve done. He would, for the first time in his life, allow his anger to get the best of him and he would do as he likely should have done weeks ago.

He would fight for her.

“Jon, stop!

Her cry forces him to hesitate, his back to her, his eyes on the door. “Please, don’t go,” she says, reaching for his hand in a way she’s never done before, turning him back to face her. Her blue eyes, tired as they are, are haunting in their gaze. Those were eyes that have seen far more than anyone ever should have- he wonders what else she’s not telling him. What else has those eyes seen that his have not? “Please, you mustn’t feud with them.” She speaks quickly, quietly, her hands still holding fast to his. “I know you don’t care for me…” Her words are softer now and a single tear streaks her ivory cheek. “But you are my brother and I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.” 

I know you don’t care for me… Her words hit him harder than perhaps even the sight of her injury did. Once more, like earlier in the day, he’s filled with shame. With regret. “I care for you a great deal, Sansa,” he says without hesitation, speaking the truth that sits deep within his heart. “Losing father… It’s changed me…” She bows her head and at once he sees the guilt that fills her eyes- she blamed herself, just as he had blamed her too. “I haven’t been there for you as I should have been…” He goes on, his words forcing her gaze back up to meet his. “And I’m sorry for that. I should have been there… I should have been there to protect you from this.”

Whatever words she thinks she might say disappear there on the tip of her tongue as the tears overflow and trail the curve of her cheeks. Jon is there then, catching each one with his fingertips, leaning in, the closest he’s ever been before, pulling her into an embrace as they’ve never shared before. 

And a short while later, when Shae dips her head out of the bedchamber, to ensure her lady is well, she finds her smiling as she’s not done in several weeks, settled into place beside her brother, seemingly happy.

It was all she could ask for, at least for now.

[farity]

Rush

Pairing: Modern AU!Aemond Targaryen x reader

Summary:  A gallery debut for a beloved little cousin has the two of you running into some interesting people.

Warning: Smut

“Shireen! This is wonderful, you are so talented!”

The young woman beamed at you and gave you a huge hug.  “Thank you for making it, I know how busy you both are oh my gosh your dress is gorgeous!”

Aemond stepped in, giving Shireen a quick hug.  “Good job, kid, we’re never too busy to support family.”

Your second cousin Shireen might be young, but she has been an artist for years and this is her first showing at a prestigious gallery.  Her family name is enough to gather many of the city’s elite and you are delighted for her.

“We’ll let you chat with your admirers,” you added, “text me if you need rescuing, ok?”

“Will do!  Enjoy the food!”

* * * * * 

“She’s crazy talented,” Aemond said absently, studying one of the larger pieces on display.  “I wouldn’t mind this in my office,” he mused.

“Well,” you said, teasingly, “it is mostly black.  It will go with all the other black stuff.”

He leaned in, playfully biting your ear while you laughed.  “Be careful you don’t swallow my earring, it’s from this guy I met years ago.”

He let go of your earlobe and kissed your neck.  “Hmm, he must like you a lot, it’s a pretty big diamond.”

“Oh yeah he does,” you said nonchalantly, although what his mouth was doing to your neck was definitely making you want to find an empty room somewhere.  “I like him a lot, too.  He’s brilliant and so fucking hot.”  You ran your hand over Aemond’s ass, giving it a quick squeeze.

“I told you they would be all over each other.”

The man’s voice startled you and Aemond and you turned to see Oberyn Martell with his long-term partner Ellaria.

She smiled coquettishly at him.  “Then you have won the bet, my love.”

“I will be collecting later,” he said, kissing her hand, and then extended his hand to Aemond.  “Good seeing you, it’s been a while.”

“Oberyn, did you make the trip just for this?”

You kissed Ellaria’s cheek while the men chatted.  She was such a different creature from the go-getters of the city.  While everyone rushed, she seemed to glide effortlessly, and she seemed untouched by worry or time.

“We just escaped Jaime Lannister’s latest humblebrag.  Apparently he now has a Tesla at every one of his homes.” She whispered, rolling her eyes.  

“That’s Jaime, all right,” you replied, “at least Cersei is not here.”

“That woman is poison,” Ellaria snapped, then shook out her hair.  “Let us talk about nicer things.  Come and have dinner before we return to Dorne.”

“That sounds lovely!

“It will be a very small, intimate gathering,” Ellaria said suggestively, a soft smile on her lips, and you noticed her long glance at Aemond.  “Just the four of us.”

Ah.

“Well,” you replied, not missing a beat, “let us know and we will check our calendars.  It’s always so good to see you.”  You hugged Ellaria, kissing her cheek before Oberyn took your hand and kissed it.

* * * * * 

Aemond spoke to one of the gallery attendants to secure the painting he wanted for his study and caught you as you drank your wine.

“Hey gorgeous, you ready to go?” he said, slipping his arm around your waist as you handed him a glass of whisky.  “Are you purchasing anything?”

“Yeah, I already had them secured for me.”  You smiled up at him.  “We just got propositioned.”

“What?” he nearly choked on his drink and looked at you with pure disbelief in his eyes.

“Oh yeah,” you continued.  “Oberyn and Ellaria are inviting us to one of their "intimate” parties.  Like the one they had with Tyrion and Shae,” you whispered.

Aemond pulled you closer.  “Too bad for them, I do not share.”  He downed the rest of his whisky and let his hand ghost over your ass.  “Your delightfully bouncy ass is all mine,” he murmured against your temple, “your silken breasts are for my hands and mouth only,” he brushed your hair out of the way for another kiss on your neck, “and your most delectable-”

“Hey guys!”

You turned at once, your face burning, in time to see your brother-in-law, Aegon, and his wife Margaery smiling at you.  

“Oh hey!” you hugged Margaery, moving to the side a little to avoid crushing her pregnant belly.  “How are you feeling these days?”

“I am doing well,” she said, “my boobs are huge, for once, my hair is thick and glorious, and my nails are long.  Pregnancy for the win!”

You hugged Aegon, and started telling him about one of the pieces that you thought would look good in their house.  “We’ve been looking for something for over the fireplace, wanna go take a look, love?” he asked his wife, who gave you a little wave before following him.

“Okay,” you said, finishing your wine and putting the glass down on a table.  “I’m about done being caught making out with you.  Take me home and ravish me, Aemond.”

“Oh good, we found you!”

Fuck.

Your mother in law’s voice washed over you along with all the shame and embarrassment of knowing she had probably heard your last few words.

“Hey Alicent.  Viserys,” you kissed Aemond’s parents, who loved you like a daughter and had made you feel at home the moment Aemond brought you home years ago.

“Kid’s doing good, isn’t she?” Viserys asked, indicating Shireen.  He leaned in conspiratorially, “I have a feeling my wallet is going home empty tonight.”  

Alicent rolled her eyes at her husband.  “That is never happening.  Dinner on Sunday, right?” he asked you and Aemond.

“Definitely.”

The moment they left you turned, Aemond’s hand in yours, and began walking out.

“Should we say goodbye to Shireen?” he asked.

“I’m not saying anything to anyone any more.”

Aemond simply smiled as you walked out and much to your surprise, he grabbed you, lifting you off the ground, and kissed you, right in the middle of the street.  When he released you, you had to hold on to his arm to steady yourself.

“I don’t give a fuck who sees,” he said, “but I will take you home and ravish you all the same.”

* * * * * 

The front door slammed open while she laughed and he tried to ignore her hand down the front of his trousers.  He kicked the door shut and grabbing her hands, pressed her against the wall.  “I’m going to have you right here.”

“No,” she teased, “I want my nice, comfortable bed.”

“Three,” he said, looking straight into her eyes.

She blinked, dropping her bag on the floor.

“Two.”

Her eyes widened, and she started running upstairs, cursing the killer heels she wore. “I’m going to break a fucking ankle, Aemond!”

“One.”

He heard her throwing one shoe aside as he ran after her.  He would have her wherever he found her, maybe torment her a little as payment for her damn hand on his cock when he couldn’t do anything about it.

She’d gone into her dressing room and was struggling to undo the strap on her shoe.

“You’re mine.”

“Let me get this fucking shoe-”

He reached her before she finished and pushed her down on the fancy plush bench she had.  He’d never fucked her on that bench, he realized, and decided to rectify things.

“Aemond-”

“If I want you to use your mouth, I will let you know.”

He pushed up the hem of her short dress, tore off the lacy underwear, and fastened his mouth between her legs.  

She whined loudly as he devoured her, his mouth and tongue relentlessly working her to a quick, hard orgasm.

“Good,” he said, looking down at her, “we got one out of the way.”  Undoing the tiny buckle on her shoe, he tossed it aside and draped her legs over his shoulders.  He traced a slow circle around the sensitive knot of nerves, feeling her belly twitch with the aftershocks of her first release.  She was incredibly sensitive after, and he could usually get her to come again with the lightest of touches.   A few moments later, he was rewarded with a second orgasm, and he stood up, watching her limp form.

Walking to the other side of the bench, he pulled her up to sitting and unzipped the dress before pulling it over her head. He tossed it on the floor, and turned to find her on her knees before him.

She smiled coyly at him and ran her hand up the front of his trousers.  

“What do you want, my love?  You may tell me.”

“I want to return the favor, Aemond.”

“You want me in that tempting little mouth?

She nodded, biting on her lower lip.

God damn her.  He could never say no to her, naked or not, kneeling or not.

He cupped her cheek and she pressed against his palm.  “I fucking adore you,” he murmured, and she beamed at him before starting to unbutton and unzip.

She mouthed his hard length over the fabric of his boxers and he cursed.  This game, these amusements, she knew he would never in a million years hurt her beyond a smack on the ass or a tug on her hair.  He would cut his own throat before he ever hurt her.  

Her slim fingers slipped into the waistband of his boxers and Aemond wondered how long he was going to last because he was painfully hard and when she tugged down the garment and wrapped one hand around him, he nearly came.  Her mouth was soft and wet, her tongue swirling around as she worked him with her hand.

He would not come in her mouth, he would not come in her mouth, he would not-

In desperation, he pulled her off him and pushed her back onto the bench before driving inside her.  “Fuck, you feel too damn good.”

She licked her lips, “likewise.”

He began pounding against her, holding her hips so he wouldn’t push her off the bench, and she wrapped her legs around him, her breasts bouncing with every hard thrust.

“Fuck yes,” she moaned, “oh fuck, fuck-” she threw her head back, screaming, and watching her, her body taut in ecstasy, finally did him in, and he surrendered to his own orgasm.

* * * * * 

By the time the world stopped spinning, you realized Aemond was still kneeling between your legs, his head right under your breasts.

“I can’t stand right now,” he said in all explanation, and you began laughing, your skin still shimmering with pleasure.  

You couldn’t imagine sharing yourself - or Aemond - with anyone else.  You’d been his since the moment you first laid eyes on him at the hospital, where he had come in after a horrific eye injury.  While you started his anesthesia, you’d realized how much he was shaking, and had held his hand until he went under.

When you’d gone in to check in on him post-recovery, he’d thanked you for holding his hand.  “It’s the last thing I remember, your hand in mine.”

The eye had been too badly injured to save and he’d gotten a prosthetic replacement, until one day when he came in to thank the surgeon, and then pulled you aside.  

“So, are you officially not my doctor any more?”

You’d smiled, “no, not really, I was only there for the surgery,” you’d said, blushing at the intensity in his gaze.

You hadn’t known what to say next, and he’d extended his hand to you.  “Well then, it sounds like there is no doctor-patient bullshit to stop you from going out with me.”

And that had been that.  You’d gone out to dinner, gone back to your place, and then he’d never really left.  

“So I propose-”

“Again?” you teased.  

He raised his head to give you a look.  “I suggest, we move this party to the bedroom, now that I can stand.  I think.”

* * * * * 

Later, he watched her drift off to sleep, curled up against him.  He thought of the worst thing that had ever happened to him leading to the best thing that had ever happened to him and had long ago decided it had been a fair trade.

He’d told himself he had nothing to lose - he’d already lost an eye, he would have a nasty scar on his face for the rest of his fucking life, and he could tell himself that she had turned him down because she’d been one of the doctors on his case.

So he’d summoned his courage and after he’d talked to the rest of his medical team, he’d caught up with her and taken her aside.  And she’d said yes to going out with him.  When he’d asked her a different question a year later, she’d said yes, too, between tears and laughter.  

Whenever he told someone that he was a lucky man, he always caught the split second of disbelief.  But he knew better.

* * * * * 

Tagging:

@arryn-nyx​   @  girlwith-thepearlearring    @greenowlfactif  @hydrationqueensworld    @megzdoodle@melsunshine  @queenofshinigamis     @throughgoeshamilton   @travelingmypassion   @hb8301   @kaemond-zafiro    @arcielee

[qqueenofhades]

Do you have any other OT3 recs? Rook & Rose rewired my brain

Alas, my beloved Rook & Rose OT3 is the only one that I can think of in that exact configuration, but two other recs if you (like me) enjoy Big Fat Plotty Fun Fantasy Trilogies In Well-Drawn Worlds, which is the essence of the Rook and Rose series:

The Daevabad Trilogy (City of Brass, Kingdom of Copper, Empire of Gold) by S.A. Chakraborty. I have recommended this before, but I will continue in my dedicated quest to get more people to read it. Set both in 18th-century Cairo and the magical djinn city of Daevabad; politics, magic, intrigue, morally grey characters, sass, snark, Garbage Men (Muntadhir al-Qahtani, my beloved), and much more.

The Green Bone trilogy (Jade City, Jade War, Jade Legacy) by Fonda Lee. Set in a modern Asian fantasy world inspired by 80s Hong Kong gangster movies; tons of martial arts action and family drama; possibly one of THE best-built worlds in fantasy I have encountered; also Garbage Men Galore AND my Garbage Queens, Kaul Shae and Ayt Mada. (They hate each other but I still think they should have ended up together sshhhhhhh.)

[istumpysk]

We always question that when Jon fell in love with Dany in show. I have another confusion since when Tyrion fell in love with Dany. And if he was so in love with Dany why he was suggesting to Sansa that they should remain married.

Beats me!

His relationship with Daenerys on the show never felt authentic to me, and like you said, it often contradicted the dynamics between him and Sansa.

This is the problem you create when you allocate parts of Sansa's storyline (the Jon romance, and the Tyrion love triangle) to Daenerys, while also needing to acknowledge the established history between Sansa and Tyrion.

That half-baked, last-minute insertion was complete nonsense. I'll eat rocks the day George turns his beloved Tyrion into an obedient lapdog, who is in love with his unhinged master. That would just make him another Jorah or Barristan, and what's the point of that? It would be redundant, and his perspective wouldn't bring anything new to the table.

Tyrion is the guy who mocked the idea of a savior.

Other slaves insisted that the guards were lying, that Daenerys Targaryen would never make peace with slavers. Mhysa, they called her. Someone told him that meant Mother. Soon the silver queen would come forth from her city, smash the Yunkai'i, and break their chains, they whispered to one another. And then she'll bake us all a lemon pie and kiss our widdle wounds and make them better, the dwarf thought. He had no faith in royal rescues. - Tyrion X, ADWD

Tyrion is the guy who became deeply concerned when he heard a red priest preaching her gospel.

Shouts erupted from the crowd. Women were weeping and men were shaking their fists. I have a bad feeling about this. […] Haldon Halfmaester had spoken of using the red priest to Young Griff's advantage, Tyrion recalled. Now that he had seen and heard the man himself, that struck him as a very bad idea. He hoped that Griff had better sense. Some allies are more dangerous than enemies. - Tyrion VII, ADWD

Tyrion is the guy who can recognize the psychology, fear, conditioning, and absence of alternative options that lead to a slave wanting to remain in bondage.

"Ghazdor's collar," the old man boasted. "Known him since we was born. I'm almost like a brother to him. Slaves like you, sweepings out of Astapor and Yunkai, you whine about being free, but I wouldn't give the dragon queen my collar if she offered to suck my cock for it. Man has the right master, that's better." Tyrion did not dispute him. The most insidious thing about bondage was how easy it was to grow accustomed to it. - Tyrion XI, ADWD

Tyrion is the guy with firsthand experience of slave owners infantilizing their slaves, to reinforce paternalistic authority and reliance.

"Bold Yollo. Bright Penny. You are the property of the noble and valorous Yezzan zo Qaggaz, scholar and warrior, revered amongst the Wise Masters of Yunkai. Count yourselves fortunate, for Yezzan is a kindly and benevolent master. Think of him as you would your father." […] "Your father loves his special treasures best of all, and he will cherish you," the overseer was saying. "And me, think of me as you would the nurse who cared for you when you were small. Nurse is what all my children call me." - Tyrion X, ADWD

x

"Let them come. In me they shall find a sterner foe than Cleon. I would sooner perish fighting than return my children to bondage." - Daenerys IV, ADWD

Despite my low opinion of him, I don't believe he's capable of being swept up by Daenerys.

Daenerys isn't his type, Sansa is. Tysha is. Shae is. Sex workers are. Penny would be, if he was sexually attracted to her. He seeks relationships where he can exert control, foster dependency, and provide protection and care.

Daenerys is too much like his sister.

[katy-l-wood]

Poison in the Blood: read the first three chapters for free!

You can now read the first three chapters of my book, Poison in the Blood, free on my website!

Read now.

"A very good book with interesting worldbuilding and a variety of intriguing (many queer) characters. Shae is Fucked Up in the best way possible always ready to surprise you. I love her sm." -@simuran

"Vivian is my wife and you are not allowed to hurt her." -@swifty-fox

Over a century ago the Plagues began and vampires emerged from the shadows of myth with an offered solution: trust them, give them control, and they’d help put a stop to the chaos. But even now, so long after, there are still those who don’t agree with the new system. --- Dustin Lockwood would give anything to find his little sister ten years after she was kidnapped while their family fled a dangerous coven that wanted them dead, or worse.   Shae Lockwood, living it up in London as a rare human actress, would give anything not to be found. Their family has been in hiding for over ten years from the coven where the Lockwood parents used to be famous and beloved actors. If the world finds out where they are, the fallout for the family could be catastrophic. But whose secrets and lies are the ones putting everyone in danger?

[bojangos]

now seems like a good time to post all of my mando’a translated mandalor titles (the canon/semi-canon historical ones).  on theme for tonight, apparently.

(reminder that my mando’a grammar SUCKS so if anyone has any corrections, hit me with em.  I’m using ‘te’ as the archaic form of ‘the’ since it’s not so common anymore apparently???). 

In Historical Order (mostly)

te’sol’yc mand’alor - mandalore the first (lit. translation accurate)

te’shukalar’yc mand’alor - mandalore the conqueror (lit translation accurate)

te’dar’kotir mand’alor - mandalore the indomitable (lit. mandalore the not-defeated)

te’ani’la mand’alor - mandalore the ultimate / mandalore the great  (not my translation!  Other fans coined this for him - lit. translation roughly means ‘mandalore the complete’.  You might know him as “the mandalore revan murdered” in kotor lore, or as the likely originator of the mandalorian-jedi conflict.  fun fact the trees in the sundari academy are named after him?? oh and he was the last Taung mand’alor. so much trivia).

te’cuyanir mand’alor - mandalore the preserver ((canderous ordo my beloved) lit. ‘mandalore the survivor”) more KOTOR era mandalores!

te’diryc mand’alor - mandalore the lesser (lit. mandalore the low)

te’serimir’yc mand’alor - mandalore the vindicated (lit. mandalore the accurate)

te’gra’tua mand’alor - mandalore the avenger (lit. vengeance) (fun fact this is Shae Vizla (not vizsla, weirdly), who presumably was the one who stole the darksaber from the jedi temple)

mandalore the binder, who i could not for the life of me figure out a translation for.  could not find mando’a for rope or cuffs or anything

te’solusyc mand’alor - mandalore the uniter (not to be confused with te’solyc)

te’naast’yc mand’alor - mandalore the destroyer (lit. translation accurate. first confirmed female mandalore.  gaslight gatekeep girlboss)

mandalore the hammerborn - idk how anyone expected me to translate this.

fanmade titles/ mandalore with no official titles:

jaster mereel te’haat’yc mand’alor - mandalore the true/the true mandalore.  self explanatory. te’tor’yc mand’alor - mandalore the just.  i feel like he’d hate this entirely because of tor vizsla te’dha’werd’yc mand’alor - one i made up on the spot.  lit. mandalor the dark, but in reference to ye olde ‘Dha Werda Verda’ epic poetry in reference to his attachment to historical reform. also because he wears black armor lol)

din djarin (my boy’s gonna be mand’alor and i will die on this hill) te’tor’yc mand’alor - shares ‘mandalore the just’ with jaster, if you don’t use it for him.  obviously doesn’t have a problem with the tor viszla association so he hates it less te’roya mand’alor - mandalore the hunter (once again.  self explanatory. also one i made up asdkljflkasdj) te’jatne’yc mand’alor - mandalore the devout (lit. mandalore the best, in reference to the extreme oath and ‘jatnese be jatnese’/’best of the best’ training the children of the watch put their little ones through)

[viv-annelore]

[attonitos-gloria]

5,10,16,34. Or whatever you feel like answering! Want to hear your thoughts <3

BELOVED COFFEE!!!! <3

5. A dead female character you need to save

I already answered Elia Martell for this and it is Elia, it will always be Elia, but I would save Lyanna too - sorry that this is so predictable, it's just young girls should be allowed to be impulsive and make ill-informed, bad decisions without dying for it. and because at the end of the day I cannot bring myself to like Rhaegar.

10. A quote so good it makes you crazy

OH SO MANY I will give you more than one. Get this lying whore out of my sight and I will give you your confession. I feel like eating drywall every time I think too much about the implications of this one. The things we love destroy us every time is also a great one and then there's Bran with So long as those remained, Winterfell remained. It was not dead, just broken. Like me, I'm not dead either, that still makes me cry to this day.

But nothing hits as hard as It all goes back and back to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance in our steads. like the insight he had in this moment. oh my God. he figured it all out.

16. Favorite sibling dynamic

Obviously Jaime/Tyrion/Cersei. I hope they all kill each other horribly at some point. But you know who I also think about a lot? Lyanna and Benjen. Lyanna and Benjen growing up together in Winterfell while Ned and Brandon were fostered away, playing with wooden swords in the godswood; Lyanna and Benjen at the tourney in Harrenhal together, maybe Benjen helping her with the Knight of the Laughing Tree trick - I'm just so sure he helped her. Like he took the black after she died. ): we remember Ned and Brandon going to War for her but it always gets me that Benjen was waiting for her to come back home, and then she didn't. I always thought they must have been very close.

34. What’s something people get wrong about your favorite character?

So, I am thinking about how when Tyrion meets Shae, he hasn't had sex with anyone for a year, and how we are introduced to his character while he's sleepless in Winterfell reading a book and not in a brothel (apparently not a sex addict). and also how he notes that his father keeps silent during council meetings, and so he tries to emulate that habit, of listening before speaking (apparently a person who can and will in fact be quiet during critical moments, councils meetings specifically). And I think about how his first reaction upon finding out Joffrey killed Ned is - I can't believe this, joffrey of all people - to be sympathethic and say 'he's just a boy, when I was his age I was also stupid'. I'm thinking of him arriving at the Lannister camp, surrounded by people - his vassals, Lannister men - and going unnoticed, thinking about how lonely he felt but for a group of savage outliers he bought with his gold on the road and then, in this context of deep, profound loneliness and longing for human connection that could not be found anywhere, he went to Shae for the first time, a woman that he bought with his money, and that he sent Bronn to find for him, another friend he bought. i think a lot about him threatening cersei on alayaya's behalf, too. (one of his best moments, i fear.)

what i'm trying to say, very badly, is that george filled his chapters with so much raw humanity, and a lot of it is brushed away by people going 'tyrion is being self-deprecating/feeling sorry for himself' or 'tyrion is a bad person/a villain/misogynistic/just a rich guy' or, worse, a comic relief, and i just can't understand the awful lack of mercy that he's given compared to similarly horrible men in these books, jaime in particular. it's not that i think people get him completely wrong - he is a villain, after all, sort of a horrible person and indeed he IS a rich mysoginistic guy who feels sorry for himself a lot of the time, but then again, are you even reading the same text i'm reading? aren't we supposed to go through this process with him and..... be able to feel, as readers, at least an ounce of the compassion that he lacks in canon??? isn't that the point of his chapters, my God, or am i missing something crucial here?? it's less about wrong opinions and more....... the total lack of nuance and sympathy that gets me. naturally lots of characters suffer from that fate but with tyrion..... i just take it personally. it IS my life mission to obnoxiously defend tyrion lannister until i die.

but of course you know that already, lol. thank you for letting me vent, i'm sorry for the wall of text. you're great for that. i would also love to hear your thoughts on all of these questions.

everyone should ask me asoiaf questions <3

[goodqueenaly]

Having recently read Thomas Costain’s The Black Rose, I have now also finished another Costain historical fiction novel, The Moneyman. To (very) briefly summarize, The Moneyman is the story of a real-life figure, Jacques Cœur, a merchant raised to the nobility by King Charles VII of France and made the king’s chief finance minister and one of his closest advisors, only to be disgraced and exiled after a false accusation of murder is laid against him by that same king. As I mentioned in my last post, The Moneyman is supposedly GRRM’s favorite of Costain’s works, so I was very intrigued to see if GRRM would borrow any ideas or character models from The Moneyman for his Westerosi works.

Unfortunately, once again I find very little to parallel with ASOIAF. The titular Moneyman himself might be as rich as Littlefinger, but the charges of embezzlement falsely levied against Cœur would be all too accurate if laid at Littlefinger’s door. Indeed, Cœur's deep, honest, but not sycophantic loyalty to Charles VII - a willingness to tell the king the truth coupled with a desire to look out for the best interests of the kingdom - could not be more alien to Littlefinger, whose selfishness and dishonesty are central to his personality. (In fact, the closer parallel to the Moneyman might be someone like Enguerrand de Marigny of The Accursed Kings.) I suppose you could compare Cœur to say, Davos Seaworth - the honest common man raised to the nobility by a grateful king - but Cœur is, well, defined by his substantial personal fortune in a way Davos obviously is not (because he has none, of course), nor can Charles VII’s petty jealousy of Cœur's wealth (and his subsequent willingness to condemn his devoted servant on trumped-up charges) be compared to anything in the relationship between Davos and Stannis. 

Now, is it possible that GRRM took a bit of inspiration from Cœur's trial at the end of the book for Tyrion’s trial at the end of ASOS? Maybe. Just as Tyrion was falsely accused of poisoning Joffrey, Coeur is falsely accused of poisoning Lady Agnes Sorel, the beloved mistress of King Charles. In both cases, the author makes very clear that the accused was not in fact guilty of the crime by setting the reader in the accuser’s point of view at the time of the supposed poisoning, while simultaneously using circumstantial and/or outright fabricated evidence to make the case against the accused seem that much more damning. (Nor, indeed, is an explanation lacking in either case: the author makes clear many times, through Cœur as well as other characters, that Agnes Sorel is too sickly to live long, while Littlefinger explains the Joffrey poisoning plot to Sansa in pretty plain terms after the Purple Wedding.) Just as Tyrion’s physical proximity to and post-murder handling of Joffrey’s wedding cup helped sell the testimonies to his guilt at his trial, so Coeur’s administration of medicine to the dying Agnes Sorel is used by the prosecution to portray Coeur as a fiendish poisoner. Too, much as Taena Merryweather falsely testified that she had seen Tyrion pour poison into Joffrey’s cup, followed by Shae's false testimony as to Tyrion and Sansa’s allegedly conspiracy, so on the stand at Cœur's trial Jeanne de Vendôme fabricates an elaborate story of poisoning which she supposedly witnessed firsthand. Additionally, just as Pycelle (correctly) reported that Tyrion had taken poisons from his stores in order to falsely suggest that Tyrion gave poison to Joffrey, so one witness at Coeur’s trial - a doctor whom Cœur privately derides as a “great windbag … pedantic and opinionated and yet at the same time servile to all forms of authority”, not too far off the mark from Pycelle himself - seizes on Cœur's real, though harmless, mercantile association with the East to falsely link Cœur to the “Eastern poison” which supposedly killed Agnes Sorel. Cœur also offers to confess to a crime he knows he did not commit, in order to save his alleged co-conspirator (though he later rescinds this proposal); somewhat similarly, Kevan offered, in vain, to have Tyrion confess in exchange for permanent exile at the Wall (an offer that I think was genuine on Tywin’s part). 

Now, while Cœur is not allowed to offer any defense on his own part (much as Tyrion was not at his trial), Cœur, unlike Tyrion, actually gets exonerated for the poisoning allegation, thanks to the testimony of an honest doctor who identifies the flaws in the case against Cœur. (Though Cœur is convicted of what Costain asserts were equally ludicrous charges and forced into permanent exile.) Of course, Costain didn’t invent the idea of trumped-up charges and patently untrue accusations in a legal trial (and Costain himself clearly states in his introduction and epilogue that he has, so he believes, adhered as closely to the real history of Cœur's downfall as possible), so it’s not that I think GRRM is uniquely indebted to Costain for Tyrion’s trial. Rather, while I think both are borrowing the same old tropes for similar stories, I can also acknowledge that this specific usage of those tropes may have been part of the inspiration for GRRM. 

[sunskate]

Robert Hammer writes about HPC - and says he thinks Piper and Paul aren’t appreciated in the way they might be because:

it always comes back to this one thing in my mind: they’re not Tessa and Scott. That, of course, would be Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, the most decorated ice dancers ever at the Winter Olympics with five medals, three of them gold (two in ice dance, in 2010 in Vancouver and 2018 in PyeongChang, where they were also part of a team gold medal as well). And it’s also fair to suggest they’re among the most beloved Canadian skaters of all time. So imagine trying to be the ones following in those rather hefty footsteps.

“Those are impossibly enormous shoes to fill. I don’t think we ever will,” admitted Poirier. “But I think it’s so nice to be just part of such a strong legacy of ice dance that’s really been built over the last two to three decades, starting with Shae Lynn (Bourne) and Victor (Kraatz), essentially. To be a part of that is a big honour and it’s not something we take lightly but the entire way, it’s pushed us to be better. 

[tiredassmage]

Besties. Mutuals. Beloveds. SWTOR-goers??? I desire to make another NPC Dynamics Post with ours truly (Tyr) [in short, if ur unfamiliar, its where I muse on a blorbo's relationship(s) with NPCs from the game], but I think I've covered the major ones that were rotting away in my head at least at the moment, sO. I bring you: options. Of the few that are kinda rattling around in my head atm.

Also something of a checklist to help me be Not Forgetful. Future me would like to do a post about all of them, eventually, lol.

And never fear, Theron's not on the list bc I feel like that's a little unfair when I've actually written those two, lmao. If you want to see more of that, here's the ao3 series for TyrLore.

[moiraimyths]

Shae, my beloved. Has anyone told you your hair is magnificent? Hopefully, if not, someone just did.

I've never been told that before, all I do is wash it. Do you... wanna touch it?

***

The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe) is now out on Steam and Itch.io, and has a Kickstarter pre-launch page! Check our pinned post for details!

Remember: If we get to 800 favourites on our Kickstarter pre-launch page, we’ll release flirty sprites for all the ROs! (Current progress: Aífe’s sprite is out! >80 until Shae!)