#I am a northerner and I will never be able to live in a place where the min is like 20c absolutely not

[rainystarters]

๋࣭ ⭑𓆩✧𓆪🗡ྀ࿔ 〖 and other stories . . . 〗 a collection of dialogue + action prompts inspired by angela carter's the bloody chamber and other stories. some prompts usfw. add +reversed for the muse receiving the meme to perform the action instead. adjust details as necessary.

dialogue :

are you sure you want to marry him?

oh! how you must want me!

soon.

i had never been vain until i met you.

anticipation is the greater part of pleasure.

all the better to see you.

what is that key? the key to your heart?

every man must have one secret, even if only one, from his wife.

all is yours, everywhere is open to you.

but now... what shall i do now?

my darling, i cannot wait for the moment when you make me yours completely.

there is a striking resemblance between the act of love and the ministrations of a torturer.

you are in some great distress.

any bride brought to a castle should come ready dressed in mourning.

oh god. i can smell the blood.

i thought all these were old wives' tales, chattering of fools, spooks to scare bad children into good behavior!

can't it wait until morning, my darling?

who can say what i deserve or no?

i've done nothing; but that may be sufficient reason for condemning me.

i have a place prepared for your exquisite corpse upon my display of flesh.

good fellow? i am no good fellow.

forgive me for robbing your garden!

all she wanted, in the whole world, was one white, perfect rose.

and what else was there to be done?

they are the death of any tender herbivore.

so late! you will want sleep.

you will come back to me? it will be lonely here, without you.

i will come back. soon, before the winter is over.

i am sick and i must die.

if you'll have me, i'll never leave you.

i think i might be able to manage a little breakfast today.

i have lost my pearl, my pearl beyond price.

if you are so careless of your treasure, you should expect them to be taken from you.

for all my pride, my heart is heavy.

if you wish to give me money, then i should be pleased to receive it.

i shall twist a noose out of my bed linen and hang myself with it.

you are a woman of honor.

nothing human lives here.

we have dispensed with servants.

take off my clothes for you, like a ballet girl? is that all you want of me?

all cats are cynics.

you read my thoughts, my love.

the woods enclose. the wood swallows you up.

all will fall still, all lapse.

it is easy to lose yourself in these woods.

i thought that nobody was in the wood but me.

there are some eyes can eat you.

sometimes the birds, at random, all singing, strike a chord.

eat me, drink me.

dive in and fetch it for me.

now you are at the place of annihilation.

and she is herself a cave full of echoes, she is a system of repetitions, she is a closed circuit.

can a bird sing only the song it knows or can it learn a new song?

beauty is a symptom of disorder, of soullessness.

a single kiss woke up the sleeping beauty in the wood.

be he alive or be he dead.

coffee. you must have coffee.

welcome. welcome to my chateau.

i rarely receive visitors and that's a misfortune since nothing animates me half as much as the presence of a stranger.

this place is so lonely.

now the village is deserted.

often i am so silent that i think i, too, will soon forget how to do so and nobody will ever talk any more.

i must apologize for the lack of light.

you have such a fine throat, like a column of marble.

i am condemned to solitude and dark.

i do not mean to hurt you.

i will be very gentle.

and could love free me from the shadows?

i've been waiting for you in my wedding dress, why have you delayed for so long.

you will feel no pain, my darling.

so delicate and damned, poor thing. quite damned.

the end of exile is the end of being.

it is a northern country; they have cold weather, they have cold hearts.

the devil is as real as you or i.

do not leave the path.

you are always in danger in the forest.

they are as unkind as plague.

fear and flee the wolf; for, worst of all, the wolf may be more than he seems.

besides, aren't you afraid of the wolves?

actions :

clasp. from behind, the sender places their hands over the receiver's eyes.

opera. through opera glasses, the sender watches the receiver.

choker. the sender fastens a gemstone necklace around the receiver's neck.

carriage. the sender locks the receiver in with them in their train compartment.

spine. the sender presses a kiss to the back of the receiver's bare neck.

cigar. the sender leans in and blows smoke in the receiver's face.

ermine. the sender wraps the furs around the receiver tighter as the snow falls.

keys. the sender silently enters the room and listens to the receiver play piano.

harem. the sender undresses the receiver before a collection of mirrors.

lazy. the sender brings the receiver breakfast in bed.

call. the sender calls the receiver and bursts into tears upon hearing their voice.

note. the sender discovers a love letter sent to the receiver from a previous lover.

death. the sender finds the receiver with the body of their latest victim.

hospitality. the sender watches from the shadows as the receiver take refuge from a storm in the sender's seemingly abandoned home.

servant. invisible, the sender feeds/washes/cares for the receiver.

hearth. the sender and the receiver talk past midnight by the fire's light.

hands. the sender falls to their knees before the receiver and kisses their hands.

bouquet. the sender has a hundred white roses sent to the receiver.

reunion. the sender lays eyes upon the receiver for the first time in an age.

bad luck. the sender hangs their head having lost a bet to the receiver.

voice. the sender sends their valet to speak their desires to the receiver.

powder. the sender dresses/makes up the receiver before an important night.

stallion. the sender grabs the reins of the receiver's horse and leads them away.

weep. the sender cries at the sight of the receiver in such a state.

dry. the sender brushes a tear from the receiver's cheek.

flush. the sender pinches the receiver's skin, watching it redden with blood.

prey. the sender guides the receiver's hands as together they skin a rabbit.

song. the sender sings and the receiver is spellbound, their feet following their song's command.

caught. the sender locks the receiver into a cage.

green. by the sender's command, the growth begins to take over the receiver.

tarot. the sender tells the receiver they are doomed to a sad fate.

stain. the sender touches the bloodstain on the receiver's white negligée.

wild. the sender rides hard through the night, chasing the receiver.

thirst. the sender sinks their teeth into the neck of the receiver.

china. the sender pours tea for the receiver and offers them biscuits.

blemish. the sender explores the receiver's skin and finds the mark of a witch.

wolf. the wolf reveals themself to be the sender before the receiver.

muzzle. the sender kisses the monstrous mouth of the receiver.

#rp memes #action rp memes #fantasy rp memes #rp sentence starters #sentence starters #rp prompts #rp starters #action prompts

[danytherelentless]

A Heartfelt Goodbye

Eddard Stark x fem!reader

summary: after his wife's recent passing, Lord Stark is looking for a governess to raise his children

warnings! smut, cunniligus, p in v, pre-marital sex (big deal in Westeros), asoiaf typical sexism (if you squint)

word count: 3k

note: please forgive me if there are any mistakes or it appears a little disjointed, the editing was shaky at best

It was more than a year after the loss of his wife that he decided to take on a governess for his children.

He had refused marriage so soon after, and did not think he would ever take a wife again, and had not wanted to have a governess raise his children for it felt an insult to Cat, yet Maester Luwin had been advising him that his children would need such guidance in their lives, especially with them all being so young, and Eddard had finally relented.

He mulled over the options of Northern ladies for some time before deciding upon you. He'd never met you before, but he had known your father, brothers and some of your cousins. Your father had been one of his greatest and truest advisors during Robert's Rebellion, your elder brother one of his friends as well, and he remembers hearing much of you then, though you'd been younger at the time. Patient, caring and wise as a child. Surely you remained so as an adult? You were also unmarried which meant you had no other obligations nor children of your own to tend to. So he sent the letter to your Lord father asking if you would be suited and able to fill such a position in his household.

He received response soon enough and it was settled upon that you would be arriving to Winterfell within the next few weeks.

Your smile was the first thing he noticed upon meeting you, a kind and gentle thing which warmed him to you almost immediately.

"My Lord," you greeted with a curtsy after you had dismounted to stand next to your father and brother who had led you here.

"My Lady. I am thankful you have taken upon this position."

"It is a great honour, my lord. One I hope I shall be able to fulfil."

Robb was the most reluctant of his children to you, though that was expected and understandable as the eldest. His youngest three, however, were instantly enamoured with you, even baby Bran. But it was Jon which made him realise you were perfect for the role whom you treated well as any of his other children.

It took some time of course for the new dynamic to settle, for you to become comfortable with his children and vise-versa, but eventually, even Robb warmed to you. Even Ned himself found that he enjoyed your company. You had to ability to always make him feel at ease or give him the perfect advice for whatever situation he was put in.

He began to fall for you, which felt inevitable given how lovely you were. But he could not help the vicious guilt which he felt. It felt wrong, no matter how much time passed since Cat's passing, it still felt like a great insult to her memory, and to your own honour, though he never acted on his own feelings.

At least not until Robert called upon him when Balon Greyjoy rebelled against the crown.

He sat in the Godswood, the night before he would leave in contemplation. Many of his bannerman had gathered already at Winterfell with more on their way straight to White Harbour. He did not want to die so soon, though that was something he expected just as he had during Robert's Rebellion when he rode away from Riverrun, yet this time it felt so much closer to him. He couldn't bare the thought of Robb being made Lord so young, of his grief. Of the struggle and strife which he would face and the deceit he would no doubt face in spite of his youth. The idea of his little lady Sansa, or his wild little she-wolf Arya not remembering his face as they grew. Of baby Bram not having so much as a memory of him to place to his name.

He thought of you, of never seeing you again, of never confessing the feelings held within his heart. Though his guilt remained to an extent not as it once had, the idea of never getting to tell you made his heart ache something fierce. It overwhelmed any guilt he was feeling.

"My lord," your voice snapped him from his glum pondering.

"My lady. The hour is quite late, the air cold," he could barely see you in the darkness, the only light emitting from the lantern in your hand and the one sitting near his feet.

"I was worried for you," you confessed.

It was a normal thing to worry about. He was beneath no assumption that you felt the same as he, but he knew that you viewed him as a friend for you often spent hours drinking, exchanging stories and laughing well into late evenings together. So much so that he’d had to quietly had to expel rumours amongst the staff to the best of his ability, hoping you had not heard of them. He knew that it was a sign of the impropriety of your relationship, but he just couldn’t bring himself to stop.

"I'll be back soon enough," he found himself reassuring you.

He watches as you walk closer to him, "may I sit?"

"Of course," he spoke embarrassingly quickly.

You took your seat on the tangled roots at his side, shivering slightly as you burrowed closer into your cloak.

"You really shouldn't be out here, my lady. You may catch a chill," he voiced his concern.

"And neither should you. What sort of a friend would I be if I allowed you to wallow out here all alone?" there was teasing in your voice. He found a smile growing across his face.

He looked to you then. You looked truly beautiful in the low light of the flickering lanterns, shadows cast across your face. You seemed quite sad, though he could see a longing in your eyes has he stared at you.

He felt something get trapped in his throat, unable to say anything as he looked upon you. There was a vulnerability which always clung to you, in the way you smiled so freely, the way you spoke so kindly and could be so forgiving. He saw that in you now. Something raw. He craved it, craved you, craved you near him, in his arms. He felt a stirring in the pit of his stomach.

He craved you, completely and utterly. Entirely vulnerable, bare flesh beneath him, moaning for him. His name, not his title, he loved it when you said his name. Not Eddard, just Ned. He wanted to hear it. Now.

He kissed you instead, a hand on your cheek pulling you close to him. Regret flooded him immediately.

"I'm so sorry," he apologised, pulling away, yanking his hand from your flesh, suddenly feeling quite sick. Barely a moment of your lips on his, so sweet and true. The taste turned to ash on his tongue, however.

"That was dishonourable of me, my lady. Forgive me please. I lost myself."

"No," you grabbed at his forearm and moved closer, you leg leaning into his own, "I... I don't mind."

He looks to you then, a goddess at his side. Meant to be worshipped. It was fitting you were both sat beneath a Weirwood tree.

He feels your delicate hand upon his bearded jaw and he allows you to pull him to you, eyes closing as your lips are joined with his.

He can tell you're inexperienced, but he relishes in it. It has been so long since he'd had any company, and he wanted this. With the thought of possible death so close, he could hardly deny himself you, especially if you wanted him too.

He part from you, breathless, "I want you."

He hadn't quite meant to just blurt it out so bluntly, but can't bring himself to want to take it back. It is his truth, after all. And in this moment, it would be wrong for him to not tell you.

You seem shocked for a moment.

"I want you too," you admitted.

His heart stops for a split second before he crashes his mouth back on yours, your tongues tangling together in some dance.

He kisses you for what feels like hours before he remembers you are out in the cold, and then he guides you back to the keep and to your chambers. The walk is silent and you bump into no one, though guards trail you both outside the keep and through some of the hallways.

He is about to part ways with you and leave for his own when you grab his wrist.

"Wait. Why don't you join me?"

Your cheeks are beautifully flushed, and he can hardly refuse such a welcome invitation, though his honour is screaming at him to stop. His desires simply win over, he is a weak man for you.

He undresses you slowly, pulling away your cloak, helping you unlace your dress as you exchange kisses. You help him with his own layers, and soon you are both bare as the day you were born. He looks upon your beauty, across your smooth skin, your breasts, the mound of hair between your legs. He feels his mouth water. He would turn you around and simply sit gazing upon your naked flesh for hours, studying you like a tome of history.

He lays you down upon furs and kisses down your neck, sucking a bruise some too dark into the flesh which he may regret some the next day should he notice, yet he cannot help himself as he listens to your sweet sighs and feels were hands caressing his arms then his chest.

His lips continue down your body, sucking and licking at your breasts and listening to the melodic sounds you bless him with, hands pawing at your thighs as he further parts them. He kisses down you stomach, beneath your bellybutton and then your naval, before finding his place between your legs, eyes upon your cunt, so close to him and oh so delectable.

"What are you..." your sentence is broken by a surprised and quiet moan as his tongue parts your folds and tastes your sweetness. He licks and sucks at you observing each reaction from his place which he could. Every twitch which you body made and every sound which left your lips. Ned took one of your thighs in his hold and brought it up over his shoulder. His nose is buried in the mount of hair above your cunt as he sucks on that bundle he knows will have you see stars.

You moan and gasp, legs tensing around his head and fingers tugging at his dark hair. He cannot help but groan into you, grinding down into your sheets to attempt to relieve the ache in his cock. He resists the urge to fist his cock in hand by instead pushing a finger inside of you, curling it upwards to feel that spongy spot. You are tight and warm and so so wet. He savors every moment of it.

He curls a second finger inside of you, listening to you high keening whimpers and stretches you wider, and then a third.

"Ned!" your fingers tighten and tug harshly at his hair, and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels your body tensing as you climax on his fingers. He licks some of it up before he finds himself too impatient to see your face again. He hopes he will be able to do this again so that he may taste you for longer.

You are worn, face etched with sweet ecstasy. He kisses you with your own taste on his tongue, an action which should disgust you, yet you answer with fervour, a laziness to your motions. You wrap your arms around his neck pulling him into you, deepening the kiss even further till your tongue is again in his mouth.

One of your arms caresses down his body as your lips part, your eyes hooded, breathing erratic. Your hand trails over his hip before it wraps around his hard cock.

He thrusts forwards as your fist closes around his tip, jerking downwards experimentally. He wraps his own hand over you guiding it up and down as he would his own in the privacy of his own chambers on lonely nights.

He guides himself within your hand to your cunt, nudging it over your nub, toward your sopping hole.

The thought suddenly hit him hard and fast. So suddenly he jerked back slightly from your touch.

"What... what is it?" you looked concerned, eyes wide, braided hair mussed.

"I shouldn't be doing this, it's wrong." It was dishonourable and an insult to such a fine lady as yourself for him to be debasing you so. You weren't married, after all. Not yet, he thought. He could see you at his side as his wife. But you were not his wife now, and you may never be his wife.

"No, no, no! Please, take me," eyes blown wide, cheeks flushed and chest heaving with each breath you take as you tug him down so gently, "if you'll have me?" His chest clenched at such tender words.

With you begging him so sweetly, he could not resist, though there was a part of him still demanding he stop now, for this was wrong. Yet it was drowned by his raging desire which he had harboured for for so long.

He takes his position once more over you, between your thighs, and pushes himself inside of you slowly and carefully. His eyes nearly roll to the back of his skull at feeling such pleasure, and he nearly thrusts into you as a wild man would, but he resists easily enough for he knew it would cause you harm. He listened as you groaned and your face tugged into a discomforted expression, he felt himself stopping then, ready to pull out should you change you mind.

"Just slowly. Be gentle with me, please," your hands grabbed onto his shoulders, you knees farther parting to allow him better access.

He moves his hips so slowly at first, thrusts shallow and experimental, before his lips captured yours in a passionate flurry of movements. You were so warm, so wet. He knew you were most likely a virgin, a lady such as yourself. That thought only made his feel more hungry for you.

His movements continued as a slow and steady pace, before you whined prettily into his mouth and grabbed at his hip.

"You can move more," you spoke, breathless as he parted from you.

He obliged, building up his pace, pulling one of your legs up and around his waist as his thrusts became deeper and faster with each moan that left you mouth.

He could not tear his eyes away from you, from your sweat slick brow, your squeezed shut eyes and 'o' parted lips. He felt his own release build, but wanted you to finish at least once more for him, so he brought one hand between you and felt for you nub and began to rub at it, listening and watching your reaction as to what was best.

You tightened further around him, legs squeezing at his sides as you came for a second time. He could no sooner hold onto himself and buried his face in your neck and lost himself to you, thrusting without abandon as he chased after his own climax.

He came with a low groan, sucking kisses into your neck, filling you with his seed so deeply that for a moment, he prayed it would take, the thought of seeing you with child so tantalising.

He stayed within you for a few moments, perhaps even minutes, catching his breath and listening to yours.

He presses a tender kiss to your brow before pulling his softened cock from you with a wince. He was unable to look away as he sat up and eventually saw some of jus seed dribble out of you. He had to supress a groan.

"I'm sorry," he eventually broke the silence.

"Whatever for?"

He looked back at you, a goddess much to perfect for someone such as himself, worth more than ten of him, "for dishonouring you, my lady. I would have wed you before bedding you, yet I have not."

"I don't expect you to wed me, my lord," you admitted.

"Please don't call me that now. I have no right to any title after the disservice I have given you," for even thinking of getting her with child.

"You haven't. I wanted to be with you, just as much. I hope you don't think any less of me for it."

"No, I do not."

"Then we are simply two friends having a long and heartfelt goodbye," your smile is sad and small, not one of any joy or happiness.

"Is that all you view me as? Your friend?" he found himself speaking before he could stop, pulling on his underclothes.

"No, no. I... I feel for you. In my heart. I..." you paused and he looked at you, "I have come to love you, Ned. For not only the just and honourable Lord which you are, but for the loving father, and kind man. I enjoy the companionship you have offered me in the time which I have known you, and I have desired more of you for some time now."

He found himself dropping his breeches from hand and returning to your bed where you sat looking at him.

"It is fine should you not feel the same--"

"I do," he interrupted, bringing his hand to your cheek, "I love you."

You leaned into him, smile broadening across your face.

"I will wed you upon my return, my lady. I swear it to you."

He kisses you once more, a deep and long kiss filled with his love, before dressing and bidding you goodnight, feeling wrong to leave you after you had shared something so intimate with him.

Despite himself, despite leaving for war and having bedded you, confessed his love and swore to marry you though he may not even live to see you again after tomorrow, he sleeps well and peacefully that night.

He wed you the same day of his return.

comments are looked upon fondly here so don't be a stranger ;)

(please no negativity, my heart can't take it. I am a delicate soul)

#ned stark x reader #ned stark x you #asoiaf x reader #got x reader #got x you #ned stark #eddard stark #got smut #asoiaf smut #smut #house stark #fluff

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for ignoring a dog?

title sounds bad but idk how to phrase it. I (25f) live in the sticks, middle of nowhere. like twenty minutes from a gas station, dirt road off a dirt road. my community is VERY small, so I know almost everyone and their dogs/cats.

I knocked doors (think Get Out the Vote type stuff) for work for years. I love that kind of work, I am so excited to eventually get back to it. but an unfortunate side effect has been that I am scared of dogs that I don't know. most dog owners ime don't train them. even when the dogs are friendly, I am worried w them bc I am disabled and getting knocked down can seriously injure me more easily than most. I still love dogs IF I know them, and actually have one myself.

i was on my way home from work and saw this very fancy, purebred dog in a field. it was a larger dog, one of the kinds where they crop the tail and ears (I think it's mean to do this but irrelevant). I'd never seen it before, my community is poor and idk anyone who even has the money for a dog like that, and I'd have remembered if I'd seen it before bc it's so strange for here. It had a collar, and was in a big field miles away from any houses without anyone around. so it was clearly lost, and probs belongs to someone's family member/friend from a big city.

I kept driving. I wanted to stop for it, bc it's clearly someone's dog, not from the area, and probably not aware of country life. cars go by fast on the paved roads, there's bears, coyotes, wolves, ticks, etc. and it's a very northern place so it's still cold enough to where I have a timer going when I let my dog out so her paws don't freeze.

I didn't stop bc 1.) idk this dog, so I was nervous about it, 2.) if I did stop and it wasn't aggressive towards me, how would I know it wouldn't be towards my dog or my cats? 3.) we don't have shelters here just bc the community is so small so idk what I'd do w it if I couldn't find the owners and I really can't take in another animal atm- financially, food would be fine but I wouldn't be able to cover an extra vet bill if something awful happened, and don't have the time to re-home an animal responsibly and 4.) I'm gonna be honest, it was Friday, the work week was really long, it was cold, and I was having a rough day and ready to get home and relax.

I feel like an asshole bc I always stop and pick up my neighbors dogs when they get out bc there's so much dangerous shit here, between wildlife, cars and the cold.

#aita #am i the asshole

[ilikestuff69]

Live Action ATLA Rant

(Spoilers obviously)

tw: mentions of abuse

(If there is a better way to word that trigger warning or if I missed anything please let me know)

This rant is gonna be about the Agni Kai against Zuko in Ozai in the live action adaptation of Avatar: the Last Airbender.

Now first off I want to say I’m well aware that adaptations will change things and I am all for that as long as the change makes the story better. Like I love the changes made to Bill and Frank and Henry and Sam in the Last of Us adaptation. But I will complain if the changes made weaken the story being told. And that’s what happened with Ozai and Zuko’s Agni Kai. So here are my reasons as to why I don’t like the changes made. (Also if you like the changes made, that’s totally fine, this is just for me to rant about something bugging me).

1. Zuko fights back in the Agni Kai. Now this is gonna probably be the most of the rant so let’s break it down.

- Zuko wouldn’t have been banished: in the original Zuko was banished because he literally refused to fight in the Agni Kai and it was seen as dishonorable and an insult to the Fire Nation. But having him fight back is him engaging and honoring the Fire Nation tradition. Yeah, he lost, but he wouldn’t be banished for that. When Zuko and Zhao have their fight and Zuko wins, Zhao isn’t exiled, Zuko wins and gets to put Zhao in his place. Losing is not dishonorable and Ozai shouldn’t have been able to banish him for that. But that’s very nitpicky, I’ll be honest about that, so let’s move to the next point.

- It takes away from Zuko’s character arc. Zuko isn’t a violent person. He was raised by his mother to be kind. He stood out in his family because of this. So when the Agni Kai comes, he refuses to fight his father and is marked and banished for doing so and the only way to earn his honor back is to find the Avatar, which is a seemingly impossible task to do. Being banished and abandoned by his family (besides Iroh) leads Zuko down a dark and violent path searching for the Avatar for years because he’s been to led to believe that violence is the only way his family will forgive and accept him. Then, in season two, Zuko and Iroh are branded traitors for helping the Northern Water Tribe which causes Zuko’s search for the Avatar to stop. While in hiding, Zuko sees firsthand all the damage the Fire Nation has done to the other nations. Also him and Iroh are able to set up a pretty normal life for themselves and Zuko actually seems happy. But then, when Azula promises that Ozai will be proud if Zuko helped her kill the avatar, Zuko relapses back into his violent tendencies and helps Azula, betraying Iroh in the process. When it appears that Aang had been killed, Zuko is welcomed home and crowned the prince of the Fire Nation once again. So he’s happy now, right? He got everything he wanted, right? No he’s not happy because he realizes that this isn’t actually what he wants. In fact Zuko hates himself. He hates himself for allowing and contributing to all the violence the Fire Nation is committing against the other Nations. He hates himself for betraying his uncle, the only person in his family who actually wanted to help him. He hates himself for doing all these awful things just to earn the approval of his father, a man who saw Zuko as an embarrassment for just being who he was. He hates himself for forgetting what his mother taught him and becoming more like Azula and Ozai. That’s why, when Zuko turns on Ozai, he tells him that the Fire Nation needs to enter an era of peace and kindness to make up for the era of violence they’ve been in for years, but they can never do that as long as Ozai is the Fire Lord and that’s why Zuko joins the Avatar and help him take down Ozai. Zuko wasn’t violent growing up. He wasn’t like Azula or Ozai. He stood out because he was kind. Ozai saw that as a weakness and when Zuko begged to not fight him, Ozai saw Zuko as an embarrassment who needed to be punished causing Zuko to go down the path he goes down in the series.Having Zuko choose to fight Ozai in the Agni Kai feels like it negates so much of that.

- Zuko almost wins. In the live action adaptation, when Zuko fights against Ozai, they imply that Zuko is strong enough to beat Ozai. I’m sorry, what? Compared to Ozai, Iroh and Azula, Zuko is arguably the weakest firebender in the family. He learns sword fighting so he didn’t have to only rely on his firebending. How is Zuko able to almost beat Ozai in a one-on-one? It also just looks bad from a writing standpoint. In the first season, you are showing that the main villain could easily lose to his son? Ozai should seem unbeatable. When Aang fights Ozai in the finale, Aang almost loses to Ozai until Aang accesses the Avatar State. Ozai shouldn’t be almost losing fights to children who don’t have god-level powers.

- There was a better way to have a fight if they wanted to have a fight. If the creators really wanted to show more of a fight between Ozai and Zuko, they should’ve had Zuko stay on the defensive for the whole fight. Have Ozai be relentless against Zuko as Zuko is just barely able to avoid or block the attacks, while trying to get his father to stop. Not only doesn’t it make Ozai look more ruthless, but it makes you feel more for Zuko as this child tries desperately to stop his father from hurting him only to inevitably fail. And you can still have Ozai express disappointment in Zuko for not even trying to fight back, seeing it as Zuko disrespecting their tradition. But idk, I’m not a writer.

2. They make Ozai look sad when he burns Zuko’s face. I’m sorry, but why are we trying to make Ozai look sympathetic? He’s an abuser. He’s actively choosing to burn his child. He’s not doing it because he’s forced to or anything. It was his decision. Sometimes villains don’t have to be complex to be good. Ozai is an evil man who abuses his children constantly. He doesn’t get to look remorseful as he’s doing it.

3. The Agni Kai was so much smaller in the adaptation. In the original, the Agni Kai took place in front of hundreds of people and this is important to Zuko’s character because not only was he punished and exiled for how he acted in the fight, but he was also humiliated as all those people watched as his father punished him for wanting to not fight his father. Making it such a small event just makes it feel less impactful than it could’ve been.

4. Having Iroh speak out against the Agni Kai takes away from his character. (This is also kinda nitpicky but that hasn’t stopped us before so why should it now?). In the original, Iroh not speaking out or trying to stop the Agni Kai is something that he deeply regrets. He watched as his nephew was humiliated in front of hundreds of people and didn’t do anything to help him. That’s why Iroh is with Zuko for a majority of the show. He knows Zuko. He knows who Zuko was before the Agni Kai and why he’s been acting the way he is while looking for the avatar. He felt like he let Zuko down and wants to help Zuko get what he needs. It’s why Iroh never chooses leaves Zuko side and having Iroh try to stop Ozai just lessens that a little bit for me.

To wrap it all up, i think the changes made to the Zuko and Ozai Agni Kai in the live action adaptation of ATLA aren’t good changes and weaken a lot the characters involved in the scene. But that’s just my opinion.

(Sorry if some of this was wrong or didn’t make sense, I’m writing this at midnight and just kinda going off memory for some of the details).

((Also, If you actually read all this, you’re awesome btw. Have a nice day!))

#avatar #avatar the last airbender #atla #zuko #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #atla zuko #ozai #fire lord ozai #atla ozai #uncle iroh #iroh #atla iroh #princess azula #atla azula #azula

[shadowed-dancer]

I watched the Netflix atla and I have thoughts

I will break them down into positives, negatives, and assorted, but if you want the short version: it's better than the M Night Shyamalan film.

Positives

I like that Zuko's crew is the 41st division. It's a cute detail, and honestly I had always wondered how they chose soldiers to accompany an exiled prince

I actually liked Suki's characterization. Like yeah, I believe that girl has never had contact with outsiders. And I think her chemistry with Sokka is great! I can't wait for her to come back and see more of the world (her "thank you for bringing the world to me" line is cute when you consider he brought her an air, water, and fire bender... less cute that her village almost got destroyed but still)

Hot take: I don’t mind that they cut Sokka’s sexism arc. It was minimal in the original series to begin with, and with the pacing of the Netflix series it would have been pointless and rushed. I truthfully believe that if they hadn't mentioned the cut beforehand, 5 people at most would have noticed it was gone

Wow Koh the Face Stealer is SO MUCH WORSE in live action. So gross. His face BLINKS. 10/10 to whoever designed that, I hated it and recognize that it was perfect. I look forward to seeing it in my nightmares (also I don't mind the change of "don't show any expression". It still works)

Gyatso telling Aang that it wasn't his fault and that he wouldn't have been able to do anything was so sweet and important to me, especially with all the other adults in this series being turned into Grade-A assholes. It’s been a while since I watched the entire original series but were the adults THIS mean about it in the original? I know the occasional random townsperson would say "you abandoned us" but I don’t remember people like Bumi or THE OTHER AVATARS blaming him like that (I know this is the positive section but just to be clear, the positive is the Gyatso scene. Turning everyone else so mean will be touched upon in the negatives)

All of Gyatso's scenes were actually amazing. I cried. Also finding his body hit so much harder in live action.

Leaves from the Vine playing during Lu Ten's funeral and then again when Iroh chose to go with Zuko... I tearbended HARD at that one

I think they did a good job merging three story lines into Omashu. I know it may bother some fans, but for the time they had I thought combining all of those together within the city was clever. Plus, since we see the city get taken at the end of the season, we feel more invested since we spent more time there! (I'm also glad they didn't destroy the Northern Air Temple... that always bothered me)

The sets are lovely. They look so similar to the original show and it makes me happy to simply see these places come to life. I got so giddy seeing Omashu you don't even understand

I like the interpretation of Aang’s tattoo. That was actually the one thing I liked from the M Night Shyamalan film (intricate designs rather than a straight blue block) and I feel this is an even better interpretation (the designs are more subtle until he lights up)

The wink and nod to the great divide (and other episodes like the pirates) was cute. I do wish we got to see some adventures of the kids bonding, but boy am I glad they didn't feel the need to adapt the great divide

I liked that they sang secret tunnel a little early. The second the mechanist brought up the secret tunnels I burst into song on instinct, so it's only fair the characters do the same

I liked Zuko having a notebook on the avatars. Of course he would have made that. And I liked that Aang used it as a reference

I liked how they teased the "my cabbages!" line before giving us the real thing. Just a fun thing for fans of the original

Negatives

The first episode had so much exposition it actually felt exhausting. Also Zuko really came out of the gate swinging with his motivation, eh? No nuance or slowly unveiling why he wants to capture Aang? Ok...

Ozai confused me. After finishing the season I believe Ozai's motivation was "sacrifice the weak to become strong, use Zuko to fuel Azula to be better" but it felt so confusing to get there. There was a point where I thought he genuinely wanted to see Zuko grow and find the avatar, and while it's fine for Zuko to think that, it felt weird for us to be jerked around like that (especially the in-between point where it feels like he prefers his banished son to his spy-catching daughter).

I also don’t like the way he acts with Azula (again, I know it's an act, but it's a bothersome change). He calls her performance below average. What happened to "she’s a true prodigy, just like her grandfather for whom she was named"? When characters like Mai and Zhao have to tell us "he's just playing games" it feels like they are telling rather than showing. "She's a true prodigy" SHOWS US he has a very obvious favourite. "He's playing with you" TELLS US that he's lying, and we therefore need to just accept that Azula is actually his favourite even though nothing he has done supports that

I don’t like that Aang was heading North due to a premonition from Kyoshi. I always liked how "the avatar must travel the world and find their own teachers in order to care for the world". Why not let him look for teachers? It enforces the idea of the avatar needing to care for all nations in order to protect all nations. I feel like it was supposed to go for this new direction of “the avatar must do it alone” but unfortunately I don't like that message as much

I mentioned in the positive section, but so many of the characters are weirdly mean (specifically the adult characters). I feel like they are trying to go for a message like "childlike mentality isn’t bad and it’s this innocence that will succeed where adults failed" but it just comes across as every grownup but Gyatso being the worst. Why are Kyoshi and Kuruk yelling so much and blaming Aang for everything? I feel like the goal will ultimately be to prove them wrong, but I do not like this characterization

Zuko’s scar needed to be SO MUCH WORSE. Something I love about the original is that every time we look at Zuko, we get a horrific reminder of what kind of person the Fire Lord is. It didn't just make his skin a little red, his eye is stuck in a permanent squint. His ear is shrivelled. You can tell that it was BAD. Here? He could cover it with makeup if it bothers him that much. Where's the texture? Where's the ear and eye damage? Sometimes it looks more like a birthmark than a serious injury. At the very least, take away his eyebrow!

Sokka and Katara’s being trapped in the spirit world was lowkey a little dumb but I get what they were going for (it's more urgent than them needing to suck on frogs). It just makes it seem worse when Aang is sitting there chatting with Zuko about his brushes. Like I loved the conversation but the fact that Sokka and Katara's lives were in danger (along with the villagers) makes Aang seem weirdly dismissive in that moment

Also... I just realized while typing this, but did they give us an ending to Hei Bai being in pain? Did I completely forget the resolution to that or was it not shown?

I don't like that Zuko chose to fight in the Agni Kai. Seeing him on the ground begging forgiveness and THAT'S the kid Ozai scars and banishes is way more impactful than "he fought but didn't go all out"

This shit went off the rails in episode 7. Why is Yue a fox who just chills in the spirit world? What happened to Tui and La? Push and pull? Yin and Yang? I got confused somewhere along the way

Am I the only one who felt the Yue and Sokka kiss came out of nowhere? She literally said she called off her betrothal when she was 16 (before meeting Sokka) because that dude wasn't the right guy. But then the kiss immediately after implies Sokka is the right guy??? The guy you didn't know existed??? Or are we supposed to infer that she fell in love with him in the spirit world? Either one is so bad pleasssseee

I infinitely prefer Zuko trying to save Zhao and Zhao choosing to die out of sheer stubbornness, compared to Iroh killing Zhao to save Zuko. Like yeah, he'd do anything for Zuko, but I felt that crossed a line (and was less impactful)

Assorted Thoughts

They mentioned the mother of faces, are we gonna see Zuko’s mom get addressed at some point? Or was that just a wink and a nod for fans who know?

The kids are pretty good actors but Katara’s sometimes feels like she's… in a school play. For lack of a better description. She's not bad, it just doesn't always feel natural or as expressive as she could be

Yue's actress on the other hand... look I don't like insulting child actors but her performance was not my favourite

Meanwhile, I loved the casting for Zuko and Aang. I like this slightly-less-angry Zuko, and Aang's actor has such a sweet face that it hurt me to see him sad

I wish we got to see an Agni Kai between Zuko and Zhao. Simply because establishing it early helps introduce us to this idea. It makes it more impactful when Ozai declares Zuko must fight, since we now know what that entails

I feel like the series is at its best when it's doing it’s own thing (the Gyatso scenes, Suki's new characterization, Lu Ten's funeral) and is at its weakest when it's trying to copy the original

#atla #atla live action #natla #zuko #aang #sokka #katara #azula

[twola]

Seven Deadly Sins - X [Finale]

PAIRING: low to mid honor Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Because if one thing is true, it is that Arthur Morgan is a sinner. Pure, organic, non-GMO smut. Complete.

Warnings: Smut, Violence, Low to Medium Honor Arthur (and all that entails)

Redemption: the action of saving or being saved from sin, error, or evil.

This is it, y’all! Thanks for coming along for the ride. Love hearing feedback.

taglist: @how-the-heck-would-i-know​

➵ AO3 Link

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Even as the sun set in the distance, the air was hot but dry. None of the sweltering humidity of Lemoyne, nor even the briskness of the northern reaches of New Hanover. No, this land was a land of sun-bleached sandstone and dusty brown earth. Of desert scrub and towering cactus, of coyotes and pronghorn and rattlesnakes.

Fitting, it seems, this inhospitable place is where he landed, the snake that he is.

Arthur Morgan heaves a bale of hay over his shoulder, walking it along the parched ground to an animal pen, where a few ewes linger in the shade of the passing shadows. Even they knew to wait until evening to start moving around - something he will never get through his thick head. Not when there was work to be done.

He should count himself lucky, he supposes. 

No, he doesn’t suppose. He knows.

He’s very lucky. 

Arthur places the bale within the wooden fence, turning back toward the sunset and clearing his throat. The wet cough that had so plagued him is almost gone - the sickness that had left him nearly dead passing with each day. 

He is lucky - and he certainly doesn’t deserve it, not with the life he’s lived. He should have been dead on a mountainside in Roanoke, drowning in his own blood, left by Micah and Dutch after the gang fell apart.

But that didn’t happen.

Somehow, someway, he ended up here, in New Austin, under the hot desert sun - ironic considering that is what the doctor in Saint Denis told him to do - get somewhere warm and dry. Convalescence in an abandoned cabin in Cholla Springs - weeks and weeks of rest before he was able to even leave the bed, much less work on what was slowly becoming a homestead.

He slowly plods back toward the cabin, where amongst the pink-purple light of the dusk settling in, an oil lamp shines through the window. He adjusts his hat on his head, wiping the dust from the back of his neck, and enters the door, closing it behind himself.

“You need to watch how hard you’re pushing yourself, Arthur.”

Arthur looks up to find you scrubbing at dishes in the sink. Your hair is messily tied into a bun on the top of your head, and you wear a light cotton dress, blue like the color of his work shirt. He loves that color on you.

“Ain’t that the pot callin’ the kettle black.”

“I am fine. Stop worrying your pretty little head off.”

He frowns, taking his hat from his head and placing it on the table.

“My head definitely ain’t pretty or little.”

He stops behind you, leaning over you to place a kiss on your cheek. His large hands find your hips and slowly inch forward, lightly pressing on the skin beneath your dress.

“Let’s hope this one is.” You laugh, leaning back against his frame, as Arthur’s hands continue their forward journey, finally resting on your stomach.

Your very swollen stomach.

“Let’s hope they look like you ‘nstead of having my ugly mug.” 

You roll your eyes, swatting playfully at one of his hands, “Hush, you. I don’t know who you’re talkin’ about with ugly mugs. All I see is my handsome cowboy.”

Arthur chuckles, spinning you around.

“How about I get the rest of this and you go lay down.”

Arthur shoos you off from your cleaning as the sun fully sets, telling you that he would finish and for you to get off your feet. You sigh, but agree to his request, rubbing at your back as you slowly walk toward the bedroom. He finishes cleaning up after dinner and puts out the oil lamp in the kitchen, slowly closing the door to your bedroom after he steps in. He takes you in, laying on the spacious bed in a chemise, absentmindedly stroking at your stomach while you look out the window into the night.

He marvels at the sight. Months ago, he held you in his small cot in Roanoke, weeping at the death sentence you both had been given - and now here you are, blooming in the dry desert on the other side of tuberculosis, somehow, someway, surviving the illness and being given a second chance.

And then your stomach slowly began to swell - it was always a possibility, but he never thought this would actually happen. 

“Feelin’ alright?” Arthur asks as he sits by the side of the bed, pulling his boots off and placing them on the floor.

You don’t answer, propping your head up on your elbow, your other hand circling your belly as you lay on your side.

Arthur looks over his shoulder, “Mm?”

You nod, reaching for him as you remove your hand from your belly. You grasp at the back of his shirt, pulling at him, “C’monnnn.”

Arthur turns completely around, facing you. He snorts with a knowing grin on his face. “I reckon you’re feelin’ mighty fine, my lady.”

“Arthur-” You narrow your eyes in annoyance before he laughs, shucking his shirt from his body and dropping it to the floor.

Laying on the bed next to you, he smirks as your eyes rake over his broad chest - he’s not looking nearly so gaunt these days, emerging stronger and stronger from his sickness.

He reaches for the buttons of his pants, watching your eyes flit down to his hips. 

“See somethin’ y’like?” He teases, pressing one of the buttons of his pants through its eyelet.

“I swear, you’re a no good-” 

He leans over and catches your lips in a bruising kiss. You gasp into his mouth, hands flying up to his chest. 

Arthur’s large hand cups a swollen breast through your chemise, and you moan into his mouth as he gently squeezes.

“Here, turn over, I’ve got you.” He whispers into your mouth, his hand moving to your ribcage. He gently turns you over to face away from him, pulling up your chemise to bare your skin to him. 

Arthur shimmies his pants down his hips, kicking his jeans off before rolling over to press his front against your back. You moan as you feel the long, hard line of him press up against your rear, and a low rumble echoes out from his chest as his arm rounds your belly, tracing down your skin to the apex of your thighs.

You gasp as he slides his middle finger against your core, groaning into your ear when he finds you wet.

“Christ,” he mutters, rubbing gently at the opening of your cunt, making you roll your hips urgently, whining as he refuses to press inside.

“P-please, oh god, please just-”

Your begging halts immediately as he tilts your hips and presses the blunt head of his cock into your core, sliding into your warmth slowly, gently, carefully.

“Look at you,” he drawls as he bottoms out, his hips pressed fully against your rear, and his hand spreads out over your belly, “Heavy with my child and you still can’t get enough.”

You can do nothing but whine as he pulls back and slowly pushes forward again. He presses his face against the curve of your neck, sucking at the skin gently.

The two of you move against each other in a cacophony of sound - skin meeting skin, the wet sounds of bodies tessellating, gasping, and moaning and pleasure.

You press your hips back at him with a gasp, body clenching around him, leading only moments later to him throwing his arm over your belly again, spreading his hand out over his child as he grunts, spilling his hot seed into your cunt.

He pants into your ear, satiated, as your breath slows, you place your hand over his as he gently, slowly circles your stomach.

“You’re gonna kill me one of these days.” Arthur laughs into your hair, rubbing at your belly as he softens inside you.

You smile, craning your head to make eye contact with him, “Least you’ll die an empty man.”

“Yer a minx, you hear that?”

-

Of course, it’s the middle of the night some weeks later when you push at his shoulder, jolting him awake. 

“Arthur.”

“Mmph?” He groans, wiping his hand down his face for a moment before his eyes adjust to the dark room.

He focuses on you, leaning over the bed, rubbing your stomach expectantly.

“Shit, shit, are you-”

“My waters broke a little bit ago. I think we’ve still got some time.” You say calmly, sitting on the side of the bed.

Arthur rockets out of the bed, stumbling around the room as if he were drunk, finding his pants on the floor and forcing his legs through them over his union suit.

“Christ, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I did wake you up, silly.” You deadpan, wincing slightly as a pain rolls through you.

“Damnit, damnit.” Arthur mutters to himself as he shoves his feet into his boots, “I’ll.. I’ll ride up to Armadillo and get the doctor. Y’just…” He trails off, looking at you sitting on the bed.

“I’ll stay right here. I’ll be fine, Arthur.”

He rolls out of the small house like a tornado, saddling his horse and riding through the New Austin desert at a speed he had not in months - the breakneck galloping days outrunning lawmen, those seemed to be behind him.

Ahead was something completely different.

He reaches Armadillo in record time, banging on the doctor’s door and nearly yanking the man out when he answers it. Arthur sits fuming as the doctor, an old bearded man, seems to take his time packing his bag and saddling his horse. After what seemed like forever, they were off again, riding hard for the cabin in the desert. Reaching it, Arthur barges through the door, the doctor following behind, looking somewhat bedraggled.

He finds you sitting in the rocking chair next to your bed, slowly rocking back and forth, hands framing your distended abdomen. You frown as you see Arthur’s frenzied state and the less-than-thrilled look on the doctor’s face.

“Oh - I’m sorry, I hope he wasn’t too difficult,” you say guiltily from the chair, hand over your swollen stomach. The doctor grumbles slightly, and you move to get out of the chair, wincing with difficulty before Arthur pulls you gently to your feet.

“How far apart are the pains?” The doctor asks matter of factly.

“A few minutes.” You grit your teeth slightly, letting a long breath loose after your comment.

“Alright. Let’s get you to bed.” The doctor turns around, pacing toward your bed, putting his bag down on the side table.

Arthur, for the life of him, cannot figure out why both you and the doctor are so calm. He helps you walk slowly over to the bed, and once you’ve reached it, he helps peel off the dress you shrugged on, leaving you only in a chemise as you lie down, breathing out heavily.

He looms over the bed, eyes darting between you and the doctor, who slowly unpacks instruments from his leather bag, placing them on the bedside table, each more terrifying in his eyes than the last.

“You know you aren’t helping.” You say crossly, clenching your teeth against another wave of pain.

Arthur gives you a withering expression before rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hands.

The doctor, completely unperturbed or surprised, simply snorts under his breath, “He’s a new father. They tend to be like this.”

You roll your eyes, about to retort something sarcastic, but all that escapes as you moan loudly in pain, your abdomen seizing up.

Without fanfare or any regard for some sort of modesty, the doctor flips the hem of your chemise up, over your waist, and pulls your legs apart, propping them on either side of him, your heels flat against the mattress.

“Alright there, looks like you’re ready. Miss?” The doctor says, turning back toward his bag and 

You look up at Arthur expectantly, breathing in quickly through your nose to keep your mind off the pain.

He quickly moves to the side of the bed, falling to his knees and grasping your hand, which you take and immediately squeeze to get your way through the wave of constriction in your body.

Arthur looks down at you, trying to disguise the fear and trepidation in his eyes. Fear and trepidation that seem to compound when they are finally reflected back at him.

He leans over and places his lips on yours briefly, pulling back before sitting at the side of the bed. 

“I’m here, sweetheart.”

You shut your eyes, breathing in slowly, trying to calm yourself down. You grasp his hand tightly before your eyes open again, and you nod at the doctor.

The doctor’s mouth presses into a line, “Alright, ma’am. Let’s get this baby born.”

-  

If you were to ask Arthur, years from now, how long it was between the doctor making that comment and the high screech of a newborn cutting through the heavy air, he would have told you hours - hours, days maybe.

You, on the other hand, would laugh and say it was naught but a single hour before the doctor deposited the squalling newborn upon your breast, sticky with blood and the fluids of birth.

“A girl.”

The doctor’s words echo distantly in his head

But oh, that moment, that moment, as the doctor wiped at the child’s skin with clean linen, that Arthur gazed upon what you had created and the newborn takes a breath to stop her crying - her eyes open and Arthur sees his own reflected back at him…

“Oh… ” You whisper lightly, looking down at the baby, “Oh, she has your eyes, Arthur.”

You look back up at him, and the doctor at least has the sensibility to leave the confines of the bed, gathering up the dirty linens to deposit them on the floor.

The newborn wails against her mother’s skin, trying to find warmth as you pull the linen around her tighter, and Arthur is sure he’s never heard a sweeter sound in his nearly forty years of life.

The doctor returns, “We must finish the birth. If I may?”

Arthur watches, mesmerized, as the gruff older man gently removes the child, placing the baby on the bed next to you while picking up the cord that served as the last tie between your bodies.

He holds the pulsing white-blue cord taut, and with his other hand, he flicks the scalpel above the newborn’s stomach, severing the connection between the child and yourself. He blots at the blood that seeps from the stump of the cord before rewrapping the child in the linen blanket. He looks up to Arthur, who is still wide-eyed and incredulous.

“Here, take the child and step outside, I’ll finish the process with her.”

Arthur looks down at you and you nod, and he takes the bundle as the doctor gently lays the newborn in his arms. Her screaming has slowed, at the very least, into a whimper.

Arthur is shocked into stillness, in his broad arms is one of the smallest, most fragile things he’s ever held - he’s terrified and awestruck.

He never held Jack as a newborn. Hell, he never held Isaac when he was a newborn. 

“Go on, I’ll be alright.” You whisper, moving to slowly sit up as the doctor moves to your side.

Arthur nods, trepidatious, taking careful steps from the bedroom into the main area of the cabin, the door behind him closing.

He sits down at the table, slowly, and gently so as not to disturb the baby, finally quieting down as he gently moves his arms back and forth.

What strange dream was this? Was it a dream? Would he wake up dying on a mountain somewhere in Roanoke, drowning in his own blood?

God only knows that’s what he deserved: not to be rescued and thrown into the back of a wagon, taking a long, slow journey west, into the dry and arid desert, where his failing lungs did not feel as heavy in his chest.

His thoughts fly from his head as the baby’s brow furrows, a high wail emanating from her, so much louder than he’d ever imagined.

No, he thought as he stood up, rocking his arms gently as he circled the small kitchen of the cabin, he would not dwell on the past and what has been.

All he knows is the future. All he needs is this. All he will bleed and fight and die for, it exists in this little cabin in New Austin.

The baby cries, her small arms punching upward in discontent.

Arthur also cries, humming some off-beat tune as he rocks his child gently, whispering promises into her ear as he circles the room.

-

Some months later…

-

“She go down alrigh’?”

You nod, closing the door to the baby’s room quietly, and latching the door behind you. It was only a few days ago that you had moved the bassinet from your bedroom into the other one, now that she was sleeping through the night better.

Arthur sits at the table, fiddling with a rifle cartridge, whittling at it with his large knife.

You raise an eyebrow as you sit down opposite of him. He glances up and smiles before continuing his work. 

“Caught a coyote out by the henhouse the other day. Hadn’t made it in, but if I can shoot it and keep the pelt in good condition… Well, there’s two birds with one stone.”

“Ah.” You reply, interlacing your hands together.

He looks up again, his brow furrowing.

“What?” He asks, placing both the knife and the cartridge down, giving you his full attention.

“Wel, it’s uh-” you start, stumbling your way through your sentences, “It’s been… I mean, I’d like…”

“Darlin’. Stop your bellyachin’ and out with it.” Arthur says, the hint of a smirk on his face, his beard finally trimmed short after much complaining from you.

You blink, inhaling slowly. On your exhale, you breathe out a jumble of words so quickly that he doesn’t catch your meaning.

“Alrigh’. Come on now. What are you sayin’?”

You rub your eyes with the heels of your palm in exasperation.

“Christ, it shouldn’t be this hard.”

“Darlin’.”

He stoops down on one knee next to your chair, taking your hand from your lap and placing it between his own large ones.

“It’s just… I miss you.” You sigh.

“I’m right here, sweetheart.”

“No… it’s, I - ”

“You what?” He rubs his thumbs across your knuckles.

You sigh and squeeze his hand. “It’s been three months since she was born. I reckon I’m healed enough now to sleep with you again.”

He snorts, part of a smirk on his face, “Y’know you ain’t gotta do any of that to make me happy. I am perfectly fine wa-”

“But what about what I want?”

Arthur takes your hand and pulls it to his lips, kissing it gently.

“What do you want?”

“Arthur, I want you to take me into the bedroom and make love to me.”

He presses your knuckles to his lips again, “You think you’re ready? Healed?”

“Yes, Arthur, I know I’m ready, please-”

You yelp as he heaves you up into his arms as he stands to his full height. One arm below your knees, one behind your back, he carries you to your bedroom, softly nudging the door shut with the heel of his boot.

He makes his way across the room and gently deposits you on the bed, his hands moving to your feet, pulling your boots off before he sits on the edge of the bed to take his own boots off. He tosses them to the side of the bed, before turning back to you, placing a large, warm hand on your knee.

You sit up, placing your hand over his. Your eyes flit from his gaze down to his lips briefly before you lean further forward and catch him in a kiss. Your hands grasp at his shirt, pulling him closer to you, as he slides up the bed to lay out next to you.

You pull back, breathing heavily, and immediately start working at the buttons of his linen work shirt, as his hands move to the ties on your dress, feverish, as if you were teenagers falling into bed for the first time.

He’s stripped you and himself bare, laying you down in the bed before pressing his body against yours. You gasp as he slides his hand, big and warm, between your thighs, rubbing gently at the seam of your body before he slides two fingers inside you.

You mewl into his neck as he crooks his fingers in your cunt, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you, lest you dig scars into the poor man’s back again.

“Ar-Arthur… please-”

He lifts his head from the pillow, ceasing the nibbling on your earlobe.

“Yes, darlin’?” He rumbles, his low voice hoarse.

“Pl-please- I’m ready-” You gasp as he thrusts his fingers deeper.

“Think you should come for me, just to be sure.” He smirks into your mouth, pressing his tongue against the seam of your lips. A shift of his hand makes you gasp as his thumb presses on the small nub of your pleasure, slowly circling it. 

You keen, turning your body into him, trying not to cry out too loudly as he works you through a rolling orgasm, clenching hard against his fingers. He grunts in approval into your mouth, slowly pulling his fingers out of your body.

“You tell me if anything hurts, you hear?” Arthur says, panting slightly as he climbs over you, pressing your legs apart as he presses his lips to your jaw.

You nod desperately, wrapping your legs around his hips and chasing his lips with your own. He settles against you, and you feel the blunt head of his cock press at your opening. He slides in, the stretch nearly painful after so long, and you gasp as he stills, halfway buried.

“No, no - I’m fine, just… be gentle.” You plead into his warm neck, your ankles crossing over his hips to not let him out.

“You tell me if you need me to stop,” Arthur whispers into your ear, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

“Plea-ohh-”

Your mouth goes slack as he presses forward, burying himself completely in your heat. He holds still, his arms bracketing your head as he lifts himself to his elbows.

“Y’okay?”

You nod, smiling, trying not to cry from the sheer feeling of him enveloped in your hips again, you’ve never missed something so much.

Arthur leans back down and kisses you, pressing open your lips with his tongue, groaning into your mouth as he retracts his hips, pressing forward again gently, waiting for any negative response from you.

All he gets is a soft mewl from your throat and your fingers making their way into his hair, to which he takes as permission to find a rhythm of lovemaking.

He doesn’t know what he’s done to be given this chance - after all of his sins, all of the crime and the blood and the wrong that he’s committed in his miserable life - how any benevolent deity could even think about giving him anything.

You moan his name into his ear as he gently rolls his hips into yours. A faint pang of desire settles in his gut - the desire to thrust into you like the early days of your relationship - rough and heady with the need to make you scream. But this isn’t the time. He is more than satisfied moving above you, slowly, gently, and with care.

He’s seen what you’ve been through - he saw how the birth of his daughter took a toll on you - the last thing he would ever want to do would be to hurt you.

You give a hushed cry, nails digging into his neck, as you clench around him. Arthur lowers himself to place his forehead on yours, smiling before pressing his lips against yours, urging entrance again with his tongue. He slows his hips, eventually coming to rest as you pant beneath him, taking in the sweet feeling of constriction on his shaft.

“There’s my girl.” He rasps between open-mouthed kisses, his lips curving upward in a smile.

“God,” you moan, “Ngh-, Arthur…” Coming down from your high, your hands sweep across his broad shoulder blades, the hard muscle returning after his long convalescence recovering from his sickness.

“Mm?” He presses his lips to the bridge of your nose as your breathing slows down.

“Lemme-” you try to push him off of you, hand under his shoulder, “- Lemme get you-”

“Darlin’. You ain’t gotta do nothin’.” He responds, brushing a stray lock of your hair from your forehead.

“I wanna-, I wanna hear the noise you make when you come.” You whine, continuing to push on his shoulder, completely unable to move him in your frustration.

Arthur smiles, and extricates himself from your hips, settling himself to lay at your side, one of his hands spread out on the expanse of skin at your hip, damp with a sheen of sweat. Finally out from under his frame, you lean over him, pressing his hip back so that he lies down on his back. You press kisses down his jaw, across his collarbones and chest, down his stomach to his hips. He grunts slightly as you grasp his shaft in your hand, splayed across his hips as you move to take him in your mouth.

Arthur moans needily as you bob downward.

You look up at him, mouth full of cock, and he’s immediately back in a fancy drawing room wearing a black suit, your eyes just as mischievous as those early days. Those early days when you and he would sneak off and pry orgasms from each other with greedy fingers.

He leans up slightly and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ears. Arthur smiles, his eyes fluttering as you gently suck. Your hands fondle him, and he does more than shutter his eyes when you lean over farther, taking the entirety of him in your mouth, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

“Darl- god-” he pants, unable to keep his eyes on you as he stares at the ceiling, “I’m gonna -get off, gonna -” 

He looks back down to find you staring at him with that glint of mischief before you bob down again. Arthur grunts, one hand fisting the sheets. 

“Oh god, sweetheart-” his hips buck up once, uncontrolled, as you can taste the beginnings of his orgasm - salty and bitter and very much him. He babbles on as his cock twitches in your mouth, “ Jesus, woman - ngh - suckin’ me so good, -agh - it’s all for you -fuck-”

He bucks up once more and you press your head downward, and with a helpless groan, Arthur stutters his hot release down your throat, gasping in pleasure as you swallow each drip. 

You sit up, wiping your mouth as Arthur falls back on the pillow, utterly spent.

“Jesus, woman, you ain’t lost your touch.” He laughs, swiping at his sweaty forehead as he stares up at the bedroom ceiling.

You smile in return, gently rubbing his hip as he comes down from his high. After a few moments, he raises his head and takes you in with a satiated grin.

“Get over here-” he pulls at you and you happily acquiesce, draping yourself over him as you settle in at his side. Your head pillows on his collarbone, your hand placed firmly over his beating heart. With you securely wrapped in his arms, skin on skin, in this small house you share, your baby girl sleeping across the hall, Arthur marvels at the state of his life.

He doesn’t know how he’s been blessed with this ending. Lord knows he doesn’t deserve it.

But for you - for her - he will walk the narrow path that he has evaded the entirety of his life. You fall asleep quickly, as Arthur pulls the sheet over your nude bodies. Through the somewhat dusty window, the moonlight shines on the pale skin of your shoulder.

Arthur shuts his eyes, a wistful smile settling in on his face as he’s back on the shoreline of Flat Iron Lake, watching your bare form in the waters, bathing in the light of the full moon.

He’s thankful for whoever or whatever decided to have mercy on him. For all of his sinning, for all that he is - he is completely unworthy of the hand he’s been dealt.

One doesn’t choose whether or not they get considered for redemption, he figures. All he knows is that he’s gotten it.

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #red dead fandom #rdr2 smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #rdr2 fic #seven deadly sins #twolafic

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

Welp, I’m going to talk about Robb’s Will…

I’ve been seeing some strange commentary on Robb’s Will lately that I found a little annoying and wanted to address. People seem to think that the will is invalid or irrelevant for a slew of reasons. I’ve seen people say that the will is automatically moot because it was made with the assumption that Bran and Rickon were dead, but since they are alive then it’s contents are invalid and can be ignored. Others have also agued that Jon cannot possibly be the named heir since he is not a Tully, so the Riverlords would be unlikely to follow him. This last point has given rise to the rather nonsensical theory that Lady Catelyn was named heir instead of Jon.

I don’t particularly understand or agree with these opinions. While there are several issues with the will, I don’t think it’s fair to completely write off its validity. It’s true that Bran’s and Rickon’s survival complicates matters, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that Jon is out of the picture in regards to Winterfell’s succession. The last part about Catelyn can simply be disproven since it’s already been confirmed (through TWOIAF app and the wiki) that Jon was the named heir.

The thing is, I see Robb’s will acting on multiple fronts all of which are working in tandem toward a larger goal. The will:

Legitimizes Jon as a Stark

Names him heir to all of Robb’s lands and titles

Presumably makes allowances for Jon to be freed from his vows, and

Places Jon’s claim over Sansa’s (most probably moves her to the end of the line)

Given all these points, I’m going to try and parse through the text in this post to explain why I think that Robb’s Will can be regarded as a valid document and why Jon is still Robb’s heir.

Disclaimer: I understand that we do not know of the will’s actual contents. The wording Robb used matters a lot and can be subject to interpretation - depending on which side of the aisle the Northern lords will choose to fall under. I am not arguing that Jon will be made King solely based on the Will either, we’ll have to wait for the next two books to see how the situation develops. I will also admit that my knowledge of medieval succession is not extensive. Thus, I’ll try to interpret this purely on the basis of what is provided in the text itself - with some added commentary from George R.R. Martin where necessary.

I. Jon’s Legitimization

So let’s start with what I consider to be the will’s first act, which is Robb’s decision to legitimize Jon. This is probably the most undervalued and the most important part of the document since it’s the very basis of Jon’s legal claim to Winterfell. This is because Jon cannot be made heir before he is legitimized (presumably).

The main point with Jon’s legitimization is that Robb acknowledges him as the last of his brothers. Sansa is still alive but she is currently married to Tyrion Lannister. This does not please Robb as the Lannisters would be able to claim Winterfell through her; and Lady Catelyn agrees that this scenario is quite unpleasant. Robb also knows that Bran and Rickon are dead, as they were allegedly killed by Theon Greyjoy. So, Robb wants to name Jon heir since he is the last living son of Eddard Stark. But first, he must legitimize him in order to give him a legal claim.

“Mother.” There was a sharpness in Robb’s tone. “You forget. My father had four sons.”

She had not forgotten; she had not wanted to look at it, yet there it was. “A Snow is not a Stark.”

“Jon’s more a Stark than some lordlings from the Vale who have never so much as set eyes on Winterfell.”

[…]

He is set on this. Catelyn knew how stubborn her son could be. “A bastard cannot inherit.”

“Not unless he’s legitimized by a royal decree,” said Robb. “There is more precedent for that than for releasing a Sworn Brother from his oath.”

- Catelyn V, ASOS

Previously, Catelyn had suggested some distant cousin in the Vale as a potential heir over Sansa, but Robb shuts it down because they would not be familiar with Winterfell. Jon is though, and Robb further recognizes that Ned Stark had four sons - three trueborn, one a bastard. Robb means to reverse the issue of Jon’s illegitimate birth through legitimization and cites that there is enough precedent to do this.

Catelyn, for her part, does not challenge the legality of this. Instead, she later resorts to emotional pleas - the Blackfyre rebellions, Sansa’s and Arya’s rights - to try and get Robb to reconsider, but she is unsuccessful because Robb is set on the idea. Even when she tries to make her case as a mother supporting her son, it doesn’t work:

“I cannot,” she said. “In all else, Robb. In everything. But not in this … this folly. Do not ask it.”

“I don’t have to. I’m the king.” Robb turned and walked off, Grey Wind bounding down from the tomb and loping after him.

- Catelyn V, ASOS

Robb throws his status as king in Catelyn’s face, further cementing that he has the will and the power to legitimize Jon; and Catelyn once again does not and cannot challenge him. So this can be regarded as a legally sound act.

Robb wasn’t the only one who thought that he could use his power as king to legitimize Jon. Stannis also tried to act on his power as King of the Seven Kingdoms in order to install Jon as a much needed northern ally:

“I am the only true king in Westeros, north or south. And you are Ned Stark’s bastard.” Stannis studied him with those dark blue eyes. “Tywin Lannister has named Roose Bolton his Warden of the North, to reward him for betraying your brother. The ironmen are fighting amongst themselves since Balon Greyjoy’s death, yet they still hold Moat Cailin, Deepwood Motte, Torrhen’s Square, and most of the Stony Shore. Your father’s lands are bleeding, and I have neither the strength nor the time to stanch the wounds. What is needed is a Lord of Winterfell. A loyal Lord of Winterfell.”

[…]

He would make me Lord of Winterfell. The wind was gusting, and Jon felt so light-headed he was half afraid it would blow him off the Wall. “Your Grace,” he said, “you forget. I am a Snow, not a Stark.”

“It’s you who are forgetting,” King Stannis replied.

Melisandre put a warm hand on Jon’s arm. “A king can remove the taint of bastardy with a stroke, Lord Snow.”

- Jon XI, ASOS

The context here is a bit different since Stannis offering Jon the position of Lord of Winterfell and not king. However, legitimizing Jon is still something Stannis has to do in order to install Jon as Lord of Winterfell. Even further, I would think that it’s the first thing he ought to do since this is what would give Jon the legal right to hold this position. Stannis’ offer here, much like Robb’s Will, would act on multiple fronts: first Jon has to be legitimized, then he has to be made Lord of Winterfell. So legimization presumably stands on its own unless Stannis specifically states that Jon is only legitimate insofar as he serves as Winterfell’s lord. Though I’m not sure how this could even be worked into the royal decree or how necessary it would be.

We also have more evidence for a bastard being legitimized and made heir with Ramsay Bolton - this happened due to the lack of any other successors.

When asked about the issue of Robb’s Will, GRRM stressed that only a king has the power to legitimize a bastard.

As to what is and is not moot... the key point is, only a =king= can legitimize a bastard......

- SSM, 08/20/2000

It’s important to note the context for this SSM, as the person asking this question was talking about the validity of Jon rejecting Stannis’ offer given Robb’s Will. Still, the point is that a king can legitimize a bastard and, well, Robb was the King in the North.

So, Jon is legitimate. Full stop. Even if Bran and Rickon are revealed to still be alive, this part cannot be changed. In fact, part of Catelyn’s argument is that the legitimization of a bastard cannot be undone.

“[…] If you make Jon legitimate, there is no way to turn him bastard again.”

- Catelyn V, ASOS

So there you have it. And because Jon is legitimate, he now has a legal claim to Winterfell.

We don’t know the specifics of where legitimized bastards are placed in the line of succession, and I’m sure that Martin will want to explore those tensions should there be a Stark succession crisis. However, as things stand, Jon is the oldest legitimate surviving son of Eddard Stark. His age over his siblings’ also gives him an advantage per the normal rules of succession. That is unless the will was written in such a way that Jon’s legitimization depends entirely on Bran and Rickon being dead, but I see no logical reason why that would be the case. At this point, Robb was very sure that his two younger brothers were dead and so Jon’s legitimization would not be impacted; and it’s likely that they would not be mentioned anyway. So, until the next two books state otherwise, I consider Jon’s legitimization to be an act that stands on its own regardless of his siblings’ status.

Now, there is obviously an issue with this first clause because we can assume that Robb legitimized Jon as the son of Eddard Stark. As we know, Jon is not Ned’s natural born son. He is Lyanna’s. So we ask, can the will still be valid if this one singular point is false? I would argue, yes!

“Mother.” There was a sharpness in Robb’s tone. “You forget. My father had four sons.”

- Catelyn V, ASOS

Ned may not have sired Jon, but he still took him in and claimed him as his son. Bastard or not, in the eyes of the North, Jon is Ned’s son. This recognition is the sole reason for Jon having a bastard’s surname, unlike unrecognized bastards like Gendry. And Jon being so publicly recognized as Ned’s bastard is a big deal, at least to Catelyn.

Many men fathered bastards. Catelyn had grown up with that knowledge. It came as no surprise to her, in the first year of her marriage, to learn that Ned had fathered a child on some girl chance met on campaign. He had a man’s needs, after all, and they had spent that year apart, Ned off at war in the south while she remained safe in her father’s castle at Riverrun. Her thoughts were more of Robb, the infant at her breast, than of the husband she scarcely knew. He was welcome to whatever solace he might find between battles. And if his seed quickened, she expected he would see to the child’s needs.

He did more than that. The Starks were not like other men. Ned brought his bastard home with him, and called him “son” for all the north to see. When the wars were over at last, and Catelyn rode to Winterfell, Jon and his wet nurse had already taken up residence.

- Catelyn II, AGOT

It seems that the expectation was that Ned would provide for the child and leave it at that. But Ned went beyond that and even installed Jon in Winterfell before Catelyn and Robb even got there. As Catelyn laments, Ned took Jon in “and called him “son” for all the North to see”.

Not only did Ned claim Jon and choose to raise him along his true born siblings in Winterfell, Jon also grew up to look like Ned; something that could not be said for any of Catelyn’s own sons.

Jon was never out of sight, and as he grew, he looked more like Ned than any of the trueborn sons she bore him. Somehow that made it worse.

- Catelyn II, AGOT

It’s important that Jon looks so much like Ned in universe. His identity as a Stark cannot be challenged; and we see this when he meets people, e.g., Craster. Because Jon looks so much like Ned, his identity as Ned’s son is ironclad.

The North, in general, is very aware of Jon’s status as Ned Stark’s son.

Alys knelt before him, clutching the black cloak. “You are my only hope, Lord Snow. In your father’s name, I beg you. Protect me.”

- Jon IX, ADWD

And Jon himself is not afraid to remind the Northern lords of this when necessary.

“[…] I may seem a green boy in your eyes, Lord Norrey, but I am still a son of Eddard Stark.”

- Jon XI, ADWD

And that’s not all. You see, everyone knows about Ned Stark’s bastard son.

“You were never the boy you were,” Robert grumbled. “More’s the pity. And yet there was that one time … what was her name, that common girl of yours? Becca? No, she was one of mine, gods love her, black hair and these sweet big eyes, you could drown in them. Yours was … Aleena? No. You told me once. Was it Merryl? You know the one I mean, your bastard’s mother?”

- Eddard II, AGOT

“Snow, the boy is called,” Pycelle said unhelpfully.

“I glimpsed him once at Winterfell,” the queen said, “though the Starks did their best to hide him. He looks very like his father.”

- Cersei IV, AFFC

“I am Tyrion Lannister.”

“I know,” Jon said. He rose. Standing, he was taller than the dwarf. It made him feel strange.

“You’re Ned Stark’s bastard, aren’t you?”

- Jon I, AGOT

The singer rose to his feet. “I’m Mance Rayder,” he said as he put aside the lute. “And you are Ned Stark’s bastard, the Snow of Winterfell.”

- Jon I, ASOS

“My lady?” Ned said at last. “You have a baseborn brother … Jon Snow?”

- Arya VIII, ASOS

“I will permit you to take the black. Ned Stark’s bastard is the Lord Commander on the Wall.”

- Jaime VI, AFFC

Myranda gave a shrewed little smile. "Yes she was the very soul of wisdom, that good lady. [...] There's a new High Septon, did you know?. Oh, and the Night's watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark's."
"Jon Snow?" she blurted out, surprised.
"Snow? Yes it would be Snow, I suppose"

- Alayne II, AFFC

“Ned Stark was here?”

“At the dawn of Robert’s Rebellion. The Mad King had sent to the Eyrie for Stark’s head, but Jon Arryn sent him back defiance. Gulltown stayed loyal to the throne, though. To get home and call his banners, Stark had to cross the mountains to the Fingers and find a fisherman to carry him across the Bite. A storm caught them on the way. The fisherman drowned, but his daughter got Stark to the Sisters before the boat went down. They say he left her with a bag of silver and a bastard in her belly. Jon Snow, she named him, after Arryn.

- Davos I, ADWD

As far as Westeros and the North know, Jon is Ned Stark’s son because he was claimed as such. So, should Jon’s true parentage be revealed, a crafty supporter may argue that since Ned claimed Jon as his own, raised him in Winterfell, and gave him a lordling’s education, then the will could be taken as a form of legal adoption. Of course, Robb had no idea of Jon’s true parentage but given that he had no other options at the time, I believe his decision would still have been the same if he knew.

The wording may once again make or break Jon’s case. If the will specifically states that Jon is legitimized as a true born son, born of Ned’s body, then there’s very few loopholes that can be exploited. However, if the will’s language is vague enough, then Jon can still be regarded as the oldest surviving Stark child.

It also depends on Howland Reed’s position since he is perhaps the only person who knows that King Robb Stark’s heir is Prince Rhaegar Targaryen’s last surviving son. We will have to wait for the rest of the series to see how Reed navigates this issue, but it is by design that he is seemingly the nexus of all this information regarding Jon Snow. Robb’s envoys were specifically sent to Reed, so we can safely assume that he has a part to play in the upcoming novels.

II: Jon as Robb’s Heir

The minute Jon became legitimate, he gained a legal claim to Winterfell. Again, we do not know where legitimized bastards fall in the line of succession but I will assume that their inheritance over any trueborn heirs would be contested unless stated otherwise.

This brings us to the next point, that Robb specifically designated Jon as his heir once he legitimized him. The wording in this part matters since there is the chance that this clause is conditional. Obviously, Jon became Robb’s heir in the event that Robb did not sire any sons of his own; and we know that Robb died without issue. There’s the question of whether Jon was named heir presumptive or heir apparent given that this will was to be acted on in the future; though it’s most probably the former option. All we know is that, per the will, Jon was set to inherit everything once Robb died without heirs of his own.

But we know that Robb’s siblings are still alive and they would have inherited too so the question becomes, how does Jon fit in with his siblings?

Arya is missing and believed to be dead so it’s safe to assume that Robb makes no allowances for her in the will.

“[…] No one has seen or heard of Arya since they cut Father’s head off. Why do you lie to yourself? Arya’s gone, the same as Bran and Rickon […]”

- Catelyn V, ASOS

Arya may very well turn up alive with a giant wolf pack at her back, which would undoubtedly prove her identity as a Stark, but again we are not sure if she could take precedence over Jon now that he’s the eldest legitimate son of the previous, previous Lord of Winterfell.

Sansa has a claim but that can be challenged since this entire situation arose out of Robb wanting to prevent the Lannisters from claiming Winterfell and the North through her or her potential sons by Tyrion. As such, the will either bumps her down the line of succession or perhaps provides some stipulations that prevent her from inheriting so long as she remains wedded to Tyrion Lannister. We do not know the exact wording. Either way, we can assume that Jon is placed above her.

“A king must have an heir. If I should die in my next battle, the kingdom must not die with me. By law Sansa is next in line of succession, so Winterfell and the north would pass to her.” His mouth tightened. “To her, and her lord husband. Tyrion Lannister. I cannot allow that. I will not allow that. That dwarf must never have the north.”

“No,” Catelyn agreed. “You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son.”

- Catelyn V, ASOS

Bran and Rickon, I think, are the main problem here. Bran is often regarded as Robb’s heir throughout the series and even holds the title Prince of Winterfell, which denotes this status. Rickon also holds this title as Bran’s heir. So some lords may ask, “how can Jon be Robb’s heir when the true born brothers are still living?” And, there are some Northern lords who do know of the boys’ survival, considering that Wyman Manderly has pledged to join King Stannis should Ser Davos bring him Rickon Stark. This is definitely a problem and they might need to work things out through means outside of this will’s framework - i.e., whatever the northern lords ultimately want because this part of the will is possibly very open to interpretation. Arguments will certainly be made over who is more fit to rule given age and experience; and both of these would work in Jon’s favor.

I would also imagine that the wording makes all the difference. Does Robb reference Bran’s and Rickon’s deaths? Or does he only allude to his own lack of a son? We simply don’t know but I would argue that even if Bran and Rickon were mentioned, Jon is still not discounted from inheriting Winterfell. This is because it goes back to the first point: Jon is now the oldest surviving legitimate son of Ned Stark.

Anyway, what we do know is that Robb mentions wanting Jon to succeed him if he dies without issue.

“Jon is the only brother that remains to me. Should I die without issue, I want him to succeed me as King in the North.”

- Catelyn V, ASOS

This point might be hotly contested because Robb thinks Jon is the only one of his brothers who still alive. Again, how the will is worded and interpreted will make all the difference. We just have to wait for the books to come out.

An anti-Jon argument that has arisen from some (specific) sections of the fandom is that Jon could not have been named Robb’s heir because he is not a Tully and thus cannot rule over the Riverlords. The alternative is that Catelyn was named heir instead of Jon so as to appease the Riverlords. Laughably, this is no solution at all and causes even more problems than it solves. I am not entirely sure what basis this theory stands on - though we know why it came about, the originator is notedly against Jon as evidenced by his more general commentary on the character.

Whether or not Jon is a Tully ultimately is not much of a hinderance. Jon would not be taking their castles; the Riverlords would still be in charge, albeit under a different king now. They might want someone with Tully blood to inherit and so they would be inclined to support Catelyn’s children, but the current lord of Riverrurn is a signee of the document. And I would assume that since the will is a legal decree, its contents are biding. And, there is no mention of any of the Riverlords who were present at the signing raising any objections to Robb’s decree as it was passed around. We also know that the Riverlords who signed the will are still alive, free or not, which is a point that George R.R Martin has been keen to stress.

Edmure and the Greatjon are prisoners, true... but you are forgetting the envoys that Robb sent to Howland Reed... Galbart Glover, Maege Mormont, Jason Mallister... they are all alive and free.

- SSM, 08/06/2000

Coupled with the confirmation on the WOIAF and the Wiki, Jon is Robb’s heir and a legal claimant to not just the King in the North title, but the King of the Trident one as well; of course, this is dependent on whether the Riverlords would want to rejoin the Northern kingdom down the line.

III: Jon and the Night’s Watch Vows

So we’ve come to the last point - that is the issue of Jon’s vows as a sworn brother of the Night’s Watch. The vows dictate that Jon cannot hold any lands and titles so long as he remains a black brother.

Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post.

- Jon VI, AGOT

As far as we know, these lifelong vows are taken very seriously and the very first chapter in the series even features a Night’s Watch deserter being executed.

So the main problem is: even if Jon is legitimized and named as Robb’s heir, he still cannot inherit due to his vows. And this problem is a big one. Well, it seems that Robb intended to make allowances for Jon to be relieved from his post:

“Jon is a brother of the Night’s Watch, sworn to take no wife and hold no lands. Those who take the black serve for life.”

“So do the knights of the Kingsguard. That did not stop the Lannisters from stripping the white cloaks from Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Boros Blount when they had no more use for them. If I send the Watch a hundred men in Jon’s place, I’ll wager they find some way to release him from his vows.”

- Catelyn V, ASOS

The dismissal of Ser Barristan and Ser Boros from the Kingsguard - another lifelong sworn brotherhood - is taken as enough precedent for Jon being released from the Night’s Watch vows. This part is quite tricky, though, because it seems that the Watch has to be the one releasing Jon from his vows. We’re not exactly sure how much power Robb can wield over the Watch since it’s technically an independent institution; thus, Jon’s situation is different from Barristan’s and Boros’ since the Kingsguard answers to the crown.

However, there are still some loopholes that Robb seemingly wants to exploit. The Watch is not in its prime and it’s resources and manpower has dwindled considerably over the centuries. Robb seems to recognize that they desperately need men and so intends to work that to his favor. He argues that the trade of 100 men for one boy seems fair enough and may even be beneficial to the Watch.

Catelyn does not push back on his reasoning. She seems to implicitly agree that there is precedent for Jon to be freed from his vows. She instead brings up Jon’s bastardy, which has already been addressed in previous sections. And her later objections do not mention that the Watch may refuse to cooperate or that Robb has no power to do this. She instead tries to make emotional appeals to Robb - appeals that have nothing to do with the Watch. So while this act may be tricky, it’s reasonable to assume that it can be done through some work arounds.

And once again, Robb is not the only one who thinks that Jon can be released from his vows given the right authority. When Stannis offers him Winterfell, Jon mentions that he swore vows not to hold lands or father children. Yet Stannis does not seem to care about this as much as Jon does. Instead, Stannis completely bypasses this point and goes on a tangent about the conflict with the wildlings and the need for a united north under a lord who is sworn to him. In fact, he doesn’t address it at all.

“Yes,” he said, hesitantly, “kings have legitimized bastards before, but … I am still a brother of the Night’s Watch. I knelt before a heart tree and swore to hold no lands and father no children.”

[…]

“As you wish. But consider quickly. I am not a patient man, as your black brothers are about to discover.” Stannis put a thin, fleshless hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Say nothing of what we’ve discussed here today. To anyone. But when you return, you need only bend your knee, lay your sword at my feet, and pledge yourself to my service, and you shall rise again as Jon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell.”

- Jon XI, ASOS

We’re back again to the main point of Stannis’ offer: that he will legitimize Jon as a Stark and make him Lord of Winterfell. Once again, there is an implicit understanding on Stannis’ part that he has enough will and power to bypass Jon’s vows. And it seems that this was Robb’s thought as well.

And we know that there have been people who were offered kingship despite being sworn to a lifelong vow. Maester Aemon, who serves as one of Jon’s parallels, is one such example. Aemon reveals in AGOT that his vows have been tested three times.

“Three times the gods saw fit to test my vows. Once when I was a boy, once in the fullness of my manhood, and once when I had grown old. By then my strength was fled, my eyes grown dim, yet that last choice was as cruel as the first.”

- Jon VIII, AGOT

One of these times is presumably an offer of kingship, which was extended to him in 233 after the death of Maekar I. This is what the wiki tells us:

A Great Council was called in 233 AC after Maekar's death in the Peake Uprising. Since Prince Aegon was considered by some lords to be "half a peasant, it was suggested that Aemon could be released from his sworn vows and thereby succeed his late father. Aemon quietly refused, however, ceding rule to his younger brother, who became Aegon V.

ref.

So there is historical precedent, beyond just Robb and Stannis, for someone being offered an out from their vows.

Martin has also touched on the topic of exceptions made for those sworn to lifelong vows:

Q: The second concerns the oaths of the Night Watch, Maesters, King's Guard, silent sisters, etc. Both Robb and Stannis, and presumably Robb's great lords, thought it was possible that Jon could be released form his oaths. Other than the precedent established by Joffrey with Ser Barristan, is there any other past precedent with any of the other organizations were the members swear poverty, celibacy, etc. to be honorably released from their vows? I ask because if the NW has been around for 8000 years, and many great lords and/or their families may have joined (not entirely willing in some cases), there seems to be a lot of potential for "exceptions" to develop as time went on.

A: Yes, there have been a few other cases, but they have been very rare. Such vows are taken very seriously.

While he acknowledges that such vows are taken seriously, he does not challenge the notion that exceptions develop over time. So the point is, while the NW vows are sworn for life, Jon can be freed from them based on precedent and given the right authority. Robb, as King in The North, seems to think that he is that right authority. We do not know exactly how he planned on approaching the Night’s Watch or if this clause to free Jon from his vows was specifically mentioned in the Will. However, since the will is essentially an emergency document, I think we can assume that Robb made some allowances for this should he be unable to see things through.

A Conclusion of Sorts

If you’ve had no patience to read that wall of text, here’s a TL;DR

Jon is legitimized by Robb and his legitimization stands on its own. Arguably, it is not dependent on Bran and Rickon being alive. As such, Jon is now the eldest of the legitimate Stark children. Though there is an issue with him not being Ned’s natural born son, one can argue that Ned still claimed and raised him as one.

There is no reason to believe that Jon was not made Robb’s heir. We have plenty of meta-textual confirmation that he was the named heir in the will. Bran’s and Rickon’s survival is a roadblock, but that doesn’t diminish the fact that Jon is now legitimate, older than both, and has more experience than any of his siblings.

Jon being a sword brother of the Night’s Watch is certainly a big issue, but there is precedent for people being released from lifelong vows. Because the will is an emergency document - was made in the event that Robb dies without heirs of his own - it’s safe to assume that Robb provided some sort of framework that could be used to remove Jon from his vows.

All this to say that in spite of the various issues surrounding it, I don’t see why Robb’s Will cannot be regarded as a valid decree. And thus, I cannot see why we shouldn’t say that Jon is Robb’s heir.

Before I close out, allow me the opportunity to ask a Doylist question. If the will’s contents can so easily be thrown aside, why would George R.R Martin go out of his way to write it in (two chapters before the Red Wedding, mind you) if it wasn’t to play a role somehow? Why would he spend page time not only writing the conversation between Robb and Catelyn, but also writing cases of historical precedent that can be used in Jon’s favor?

The will’s purpose can’t just be to create drama between the Stark kids. There is plenty of that without Jon being added as a factor - especially since Jon wasn’t even a claimant before the will was written. Now that Robb is dead and Winterfell needs to be restored to the Starks, Martin obviously intends to do something with the will. He even made sure to emphasize that a bastard can be legitimized by a king and there are people still living who know of the will’s contents when asked about it.

I’m not arguing that Jon will automatically become king solely because of the will. What I am arguing is that the will is a valid document and Jon now has as much right to Winterfell as his siblings.

So as it stands, Jon is Robb’s legal heir. How that pans out and develops? Well, we’ll just have to wait for the next two books.

#jon snow #asoiaf #robb’s will #valyrianscrolls #my stuff

[holly-fixation]

Everyone loves a good old fix-it AU, and in the case of Final Fantasy VII, it usually involves burning all the BAD things at Nibelheim: Jenova's body and Shinra Manor (at least the basement).

Though I am guilty of this same easy plot line, I cannot believe it to be true in universe. Fair warning, what follows is a break down of in game Canon, analysis, and my own headcanons on what would happen if Jenova's body burned.

In game canon:

Everything that lives and dies on the Planet returns to the planet. The Planet gives life to the next soul born. This keeps the Planet's circle of life rolling and the Lifestream strong. The Lifestream is every soul that has died on the planet, becoming this sort of consciousness soup as you see in the Who Am I sequence of FF7.

Why does this matter?

Every soul that dies on the Planet becomes one with the Planet. And this poses a problem when a malevolent alien lands on the surface.

In the videos Gast recorded in Icicle Village, Ifalna explains that Jenova spread a virus and that the Planet would never be able to fully heal itself as long as it exists. The surviving Cetra "defeated" and "confined" Jenova to the Northern Crater/Cave. And despite its confinement, "it could still come back to life at some time."

In the game, Sephiroth's goal is to become a god by summoning meteor, which would force all the planet's energy (the Lifestream) to one place for him to absorb.

Adding just a little bit of content from Advent Children: Geostigma, the virus that spreads S cells, is assumed to be connected with close and long proximity to mako. Mako is refined Lifestream for energy generation. Sephiroth is dead at this point.

Also, Sephiroth's plan in Advent Children: "The last thoughts of geostigma’s dead. Those Remnants will join the Lifestream and girdle the planet – choking it, corroding it."

Analysis/My head canon:

Defeated and confined do not mean killed. "It can come back to life" can easily mean "it can regain control of itself". Think about cryo-stasis where a body and (hopfully) a mind can be kept suspended with minimal aging usually up to a certain point, say waiting for a cure to be discovered for a person's terminal illness (yes I am using Mr. Freeze's wife as my example but hear me out). What I'm saying is, Jenova's probably not DEAD dead at the Northern Crater.

The Cetra probably were probably warned by the Planet that if Jenova were to die, it's virus would enter the Planet/Lifestream itself (like Geostigma). So my conclusion has always been, (even from my first play through of the game when I didn't even know about the scenes with Gast and Ifalna or the movie), Jenova is alive from the moment she landed on the Planet. In stasis? Yes. Mobile? Hell no. Psychologically active? No in game evidence and though I do love the idea, (this will does not apply in this post though).

So long story long, Jenova's burned body may lead to early Geostigma/Jenoav's specific virus and rotting of the planet from the inside out. It may accelerate Jenova's plans instead of halting them indefinitely. And God forbid whoever in the fix it burns the body also throws her remains into the mako below, she might rebuild her body using the Lifestream itself. After all, Sephiroth wanted to absorb the Lifestream to become a God. Why wouldn't Jenova be able to do the same?

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TED talk.

#sephiroth #jenova #ffvii #final fantasy vii #ff7 #final fantasy 7

[ecargmura]

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End Episode 20 Review - An Actual Cliff In A Cliffhanger

This episode legit ends with a cliff showing up, so it’s a cliffhanger! …I am sorry for the awful dad joke. Anyways, the first selection continues as we learn more about the other mages. I think that learning more about the other mages is a nice add in because the mages from Wirbel’s group and Denken’s group are most likely going to be recurring characters later on in this arc. They are totally not going to fail the first selection; they have way too much focus to be taken out of the spotlight this soon.

Let’s talk about Wirbel’s group first. Wirbel is surprisingly a nice guy underneath his scary demeanor. He knows how to kill and has killed women and children before, but he knows when he should and shouldn’t do so. He had a flashback of his time as a mercenary of the Northern Magic Corps. It was a cruel job as he had to kill so many innocent lives in addition to killing demons. Yet, he did it all because he had a crush on someone and promised that he’d make the world a better place when they meet again. Seeing how he is similar yet different from Ubel really makes him stand out. I can’t wait to see more of him later on. I really liked the scene where he fell for Fern’s bluff when she was pointing her staff at him.

Poor Ehre. She was valedictorian of her class at a prestigious magic school, but she lost to Fern, the girl who was basically homeschooled all her life. Imagine being someone who has a Bachelors, Master’s and PhD and then losing a huge job opportunity to someone who only had a high school diploma. Would that be a big kick in the face for the most educated person? That’s what Ehre’s situation was. She lost to Fern, who was trained under Frieren, but never having a proper formal education in an academic institution. If I was Ehre, I’d be ashamed; I hope that this would be a moment for her to become humble, not that she wasn’t.

Scharf has a cool ability, but he doesn’t have much spotlight. He is able to solidify flower petals and turn them into magic. He gets knocked out by Land and then wasted so much mana that he had to get floated around by Wirbel. I think that showcasing Scharf and Land’s abilities at the same time was a smart idea because it shows how different they fight as mages. Land is someone who has trust issues, so he summons clones of himself to fight in his place and deceive enemies while the real him can take shots when the enemy is distracted. Out of the two mages, Land’s magic is the most terrifying.

Now for Denken’s group, Lauren’s magic is Jilwer, an ancient spell that gives the user super sonic speed. Since she’s still a novice, she’s not good at concealing her mana when using it yet, so that’s why she’s backing out of the upcoming fight; she did steal Frieren’s stille, though. Richter’s magic seems to be manipulating Earth? Either that or he can create tremors. I can’t tell. However, he’s the most sadistic of the group as he wanted to kill either Lawine or Kanne when Denken told him not to as both are still kids and knocking them out is more efficient. When Denken said that, I instantly liked him because he’s honest and has morals. He’s still an enemy, but he’s an honorable kind of person. He wants to fight Frieren and I can’t wait to see what sort of spells he has.

The scenes with Genau and Sense are interesting as Genau purposely proctored an exam where people will be killed to prove to see who is qualified to become a First-Class mage. I do wonder if Sense is the girl that Wirbel had a crush on.

Now, there’s a bit of foreshadowing of an elf called Serie; I’m using “they” because I have no idea of they’re male or female. They’re an elf who knows practically everything in the entire world. Given how they are described, I feel like they are older than Frieren. I honestly can’t wait to meet this character. It’s not often you see an elf much older than Frieren; Kraft is older than her, but Serie feels like prehistoric.

I know that it’s already been three episodes since the first selection has started. I do wonder how many more episodes it’ll take. Hopefully, it won’t drag out too much. I’m mostly anticipating the clash between the two senior citizens next episode. The showdown of the century! What are your thoughts on this episode?

#frieren beyond journey's end #sousou no frieren #frieren #fern #ubel #land #wirbel #ehre #denken #richter #laufen #genau #sense #serie #review #anime #anime review #ecargmura #arum journal

[gatheringfiki]

The following ficlet was written by @i-am-still-bb​ based on this photoset.

Fili/Kili, Teen

You might also be able to read this story on AO3.

If you’ve enjoyed this story, please leave a comment either in replies or on AO3. :)

The House at the End of the World

—

Darkness came with the first falling of snow. 

Here, in the cabin at the end of the world, the darkness did not leave and neither did the snow once they fell. Both were His constant companions until the first glow of sunlight peeked over the southern horizon in a few months’ time. The dark quiet of the world was beautiful and harsh in equal measures just like He was. 

He welcomed the light and warmth of the sun because it meant rest,  but he did not relish what else it brought.

When the first rays of sunlight appeared in the sky the white streaks of light that fell from the heavens and shook with His footsteps disappeared. When He left He took all the souls of the dead and departed that had gathered in the months of darkness with Him. The earth trembled when they left and awaited their return over the long months of abundance and life.

But gathering those spirits who lingered did not occupy all of His time. He oft wandered the woods and homes of the living to pass the time until found one who caught His gaze. After that when His work was done He would seek out the cabin by the stream with its bright warmth and its white washed walls. And there He would pass His time with the man who had halted His steps. Together they lingered long in the bed of white linen and endless time, fingers playing on hair, tracing the edges of His wings, sliding over smooth skin.

They did other things as well. The man brought traditions with him and together they sought out an evergreen tree and brought it inside and covered it in decorations that shimmered white and silver in the firelight. It reminded Him of snow gracing the branches of pine trees in the forest as He went about His work. 

There was the year that the small white cat joined them. How the kitten had survived and made it into the depths of the deep northern forests He would never know. But now the cat, Senka, as the man had named her, traveled to the cabin each year in a basket lined with furs in the back of the man’s wagon. Once there she received treats, head rubs, and ear scratches from them both.

That wagon changed over the years. First it was drawn by oxen, then horses, then no animals at all. Now it was a shiny silver car with stars emblazoned on the front. Right now it was tucked beneath the wide boughs of a pine next to the cabin. Time passed, but neither of them remarked upon it. The man developed a silver streak in his hair, but age did not touch him in any other way; His hair paled from a bright gold to something more tame. And so time passed for them both. They never spoke about how it was His job to keep lives short and what He did when he left that cozy cabin His face grim and his jaw set. 

Those were nights where he had to carry out His tasks. He took a mighty sword in hand; His eyes glowed blue; He spread his wings and went in search of those who resisted the call of their eternal sleep. He found them in all kinds of places; the dark northern woods, the warm cities of the south, the streets of cloud covered islands. When He found them He reached out His hand, skin turning dark and bones glowing through His epidermis. Some would cower, some thanked Him, and then there were those that resisted. Those He had to strike down to protect the order of the world and keep the wheel turning. 

They all left the world in the same way, a flash of light—white, green, or blue. And then they waited for the rising of the sun when they would be ferried into the next world when He left this one until the darkness returned once more. Then He would set his eyes on Home and the love waiting there for Him. 

When the warmth on the southern horizon became more than just a sliver they started saying their goodbyes. Neither of them used the words, but touches lingered, kisses were more urgent, neither wanted to be the first to get up in the morning or the last to go to bed. They never said goodbye in so many words, because it wasn’t really goodbye. The man would watch the sunlight increase and then fall again with the anticipation of going back to the cabin to wait for the end of the world when they would never be parted again.

#submission #Gathering 12 Days 2023 #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #the Hobbit

[sed-victa-catoni]

I've been in a long post drought, so here's one. It's not edited as well as the other ones I've posted, apologies in advance. Here's some thoughts about my hearthome, how I found it, and what I intend to do with that information.

I've had multiple hearthomes over the years, some of which have stuck around and some of which has faded. The one that's most important to me right now is an ill-defined area of modern day rural Nevada, which can be best described as "it's mostly northern Nye County".

Some or all of the blue oval, plus maybe some other places I haven't figured out my relationship to yet.

Most of it is uninhabited, but my relationship to it is definitely within the context of being a human being from there, not any sort of nonhuman desert wildlife. (Humans are a species of desert wildlife, if you ask me!)

I knew my hearthome is in Nevada pretty much as soon as I knew the term existed, but I thought it was in Las Vegas or some other part of the Mojave Desert. As Arcade Gannon, that's where I lived my adult life, so I have a feeling of belonging to that place. Now I classify that as just being... from there, no qualifiers other than "it was in a past life".

I never went to Nye County. It's quite far out of the way from anything else, even in the post-apocalypse. I had never personally lived there when I was messing around on Google Earth and I realized "I've been here before."

It felt familiar to me in the same way your primary school building might feel familiar to you. You probably don't remember the exact layout of everything, and your memory of how it felt to be there is colored by your future experiences and what other people have told you about what you were like as a child.

Nobody can ever truly remember exactly how their past felt, just like I can never truly understand what it's like to live in Nye County or Las Vegas. You remember your past much more than I can remember those places because you have a direct, unbroken, physical connection. I don't.

But I do have those flashes of recognition. The layout of a town feeling right in a way I can't describe. A deep sadness when I look at a point on the map which used to be something and is now barely hanging on, like I was there to watch the old schoolhouse collapse. I knew sagebrush had a smell before anyone told me. When I play Geoguessr, I can sometimes distinguish stretches of highway that look almost identical to other stretches of highway because one of them feels like the way home.

I don't think a past life is what's causing this. My past life in Las Vegas feels different, I can't put my finger on how. I don't feel, right now, as if I am Las Vegan. It's a place I've been before and that I'd love to visit again, and I feel a connection to it, but it's not my home right now.

I'm in the middle of a very long-lasting fictionflicker of someone who *did* live in northern Nye County, but these feelings predate that, and they never lived in this world, 2024. That flicker doesn't explain the feeling of deja vu I get when I look at dashcam videos. They didn't know what a car was. I never drove a car there, but, clear as day, I know I should be driving a car there.

I have a general fascination with rural and remote areas of the United States. I spend a lot of my free time reading about a lot of places, and I'd like to visit them someday. I know this isn't just that interest on a more intense level because my interest is that of an observer. I am a person looking down from above at dots on a map, wishing I could drive in and sit at the bar and ask what stories they tell. Their stories, their bar, their dots, their place, their home.

With very few exceptions, I have not felt as if their story is mine. I've felt as if we are a metaphor for each other, as if their history can be used to lay out my life in a way that makes just a little more sense. I've been able to see similarities between my hometown and other towns, to fit them together in a greater story of what it means to be a Midwesterner or to be American or to be bypassed and forgotten as soon as you aren't useful.

But those are not my story. There's always separation. There is no separation here. The story of this place is my story, when I read it I fit in perfectly. I don't have to go sit at their bar, I am already at my favorite bar, metaphorically.

For now, I am Nevadan. I've never lived there, and I will probably never live there. That's okay. I'm a multifaceted person. Nye County is a place that calls out to me, but I have other places I need to attend to. It'd probably make me feel worse to spend a lot of time there and realize "I'm *not* from here, on some level, this is all something my brain made up." I already know that, but it's not something I need to internalize, and for that I am grateful.

I have a hometown I love dearly and feel an obligation to give back to, and I'm very excited to live there. I can hold it dear without ignoring the call of the desert. To let go of either would be the death of me, so I won't.

#alterhuman #hearthome #long post #you could call this an essay but it was not written in the way I write essays #my essay-writing process involves... proofreading and editing and getting feedback from friends #maybe that is why I have not written anything! #fallout fictionkin #kind of?

[jimblejamblewritings]

snow falls hot | part 4.

Summary: (Y/N) Snow isn’t a Snow at all. She’s a Targaryen— Rhaegar’s child. Taken in by the Starks, she leads her life as another on of Ned’s bastards. Will she be able to live in Westeros comfortably? More importantly, does she have any ambition to see herself one day on the Iron Throne?

Warnings: in this part none but this is game of thrones so…

Pairing: robb stark x reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

A wedding in the middle of a war was not how you pictured your wedding. When you, Brienne, and Catelyn had arrived the camp was almost to Riverrun— Catelyn’s childhood home. After having to be there for the funeral of their kin, Robb and the entire army decided to make Riverrun their home base. Despite living in the North all your life, you had never been to Riverrun. Ned and Catelyn preferred keeping you in Winterfell. It was safer that way. The place was nice— well the places not swarming with Robb’s army. Most of the stuff was already there, now only a few supplies were left to be transferred.

You stayed close to Robb the entire time, head covered and dragon hidden in the saddle bag. Even after arriving, you greeted Lord Edmure and the Blackfish and quickly scurried to the room claimed for Robb. He was left with the task of informing everyone of the ceremony that evening while you worried in the room until he got back. He seemed to sense it as he wrapped his arms around your middle, swaying the two of you from side to side. He kissed your temple and then took one of the white-tipped curls between his fingers.

“We’ll have another one,” Robb said. “In King’s Landing or back in Winterfell. Or even here but with proper preparations, we’ll have the wedding you want.”

The dragon on the table yipped causing the two of you to laugh. Like Godswood, the dragon was black as night with a glimmer whenever light seemed to shine on its scales. Robb tried to pet it again, this time being allowed to. He hissed as the dragon bit at his finger.

“She knows you’re afraid of her. You can’t be, a dragon is a lot like a dire wolf. Strong owners are rewarded with their company.”

“Have you named her yet?”

“Shadow… I don���t want another one, another wedding. This one isn’t perfect but I only want to be married once and I am, to you.”  

~~

Gruff soldiers cleaned up as best as they could. Everyone was actually excited. A wedding was a semblance of normality. Not much could be done in terms of decoration and the food wasn’t any better than it normally was but a wedding was still a wedding. Catelyn, Edmure Tully, the Karstarks, and other important figures stood at the front near you and Robb. They cheered as the vows were finished. You turned away from Robb and to the wedding guests.

“I know everyone is aware of the letter sent by Eddard Stark. He told the truth but it was still only partial. I am still a Northerner through and through, married to King Robb Stark in the North who I am proud to stand beside. And we Northerners do not bow. Now what I say next, for the safety and sake of Arya and Sansa Stark cannot be repeated. The secret I am to share cannot be uttered again until they are safe in our arms, I beg of you.”

The hall grew silent. Robb’s hand found yours and he gave it a gentle squeeze. You breathed in deep and looked at Godswood. With what you could only assume was a nod of understanding, Godswood left and returned with a dragon on his back. Gasps popped up through the crowd. Even the men who seemed to show no emotion at anything had looks of surprise and wonder on their faces. No one could believe the sight in front of them. Murmurs started about how they saw the white tips of your hair but couldn’t say what had caused the random change overnight. Shadow flew, not very far, from Godswood to your shoulder.

“Joffrey was personally responsible for the death of Eddard Stark. With my own eyes, I watched the man who safely raised me die. For such an act, the false king Joffrey Lannister must pay. Lord Eddard Stark will not die in vain. He bent the knee to protect his family and was murdered for honor. I will not bow anymore. My mother was Neryssa of Dorne briefly married to my father… Rhaegar Targaryen.”

You looked to Robb, who hadn’t let go of your hand the entire time. His eyes urged you to continue going.

“I stand before you as (Y/N) Targaryen Stark, first of her name, last of the House Targaryen, Lady of Winterfell, Queen in the North and rightful heir to the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms.”

You looked out at the crowd. You knew most of these men since you were a child but there was still a small thought in the back of your head that now they would turn on you. You stiffened slightly when Rickard Karstark pulled out his sword but Robb didn’t seem nervous at all. Lord Karstark raised his sword high in the air.

“(Y/N) Targaryen Stark!”

The others followed suit in raising their swords and shouting your name with sprinkles of Robb’s name as well. They continued to chant as you and Robb exited the hall. Robb cleared Grey Wind from the room, the dire wolf gladly going with Godswood and Shadow. You took initiative to run your hands down Robb’s back as he closed the door. With a smile, he turned around to face you.

“You missed my name day,” you said. “You didn’t miss much though, there wasn’t any celebration.”

Robb pushed your dress down your body. His fingers attempted to make quick work of the strings. Instead of turning you around for an easier time, he maintained eye contact as he worked to undo the corset strings. You undid Robb’s cloak and belt.

“I can think of a way to celebrate. You look beautiful.”

Your corset joined your dress on the floor. Robb pulled off his shirt. For a moment it was silent between the two of you— air charged and heavy— before your lips crashed against each other. It was an ungraceful walk to the bed, neither of you able to keep your hands from the other one. You were sure you heard whispers and quick footsteps as people tried to avoid the room and the noises coming from it.

“I don’t think I could ever get tired of that,” you said, a lazy smile plastered on your face. “How are we expected to just sleep every night?”

Robb laughed. He covered you with a blanket, pressing a kiss to your back. “I understand why men fight now.”

“What does that mean?”

“After tasting you, I’d be damned if another man tried to have you… You will sit on the Iron Throne and all of the Seven Kingdoms will bow at your feet, I promise you that. I will get my wife back what is hers.”

The two of you settled in the bed, ready to let sleep take over. Morning reminded you that it wasn’t a dream— so did Robb deciding to settle between your legs before leaving for the morning to discuss battle plans. Now a true Stark in name, nothing changed as you greeted whoever you passed on the way to one of the courtyards at Riverrun that wasn’t taken over by army men. Grey Wind followed you and Godswood, the wolf enjoyed seeing his sibling. The two dire wolves settled underneath a tree as they watched you and Shadow.

It was easy to train Godswood. He hadn’t given you much trouble, the two of you bonding right away. But that was a wolf and you trained him like a dog since they were so similar. What was similar to a dragon? Shadow looked at you. The only thing you managed to do was show her that you weren’t afraid of her and deserved to one day be her rider. If she ever got that big— you remembered the tiny dragon skulls in the dungeons of the Red Keep. Your mind flashed to the visions of the ruined tower full of eggs and the book in the center of the room. Trying to remember what you saw, you mentally flipped through the book pages until a word in Valyrian popped out at you.

“Soves.” Fly.

Godswood and Grey Wind lifted their heads at the sight of the small winged creature flying high into the air. Shadow dipped and dived before returning to your outstretched arm. You tried again. Anytime you could recall a word of Valyrian, you would say it and Shadow would execute it. You bent your head and Shadow touched her forehead to yours. You almost jumped back when you were staring at yourself. A blink and you were looking back at your dragon.

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

You turned to see Robb coming with some of his men. He greeted you with a kiss and you could see the snickers of the men behind him— you would surely be teased forever. You told him to watch and touched your head to Shadow again. This time you were in fact looking at Robb but not through your eyes, you knew it wasn’t through your eyes.

“She’s a warg,” one of the men said and explained. You thought wargs were a myth.

“A Targaryen that can warg into her dragon. Those Lannister bastards don’t stand a chance.”

You chuckled, eyesight returning to your own body. “Shadow is but a baby. I would hope our war doesn’t drag out so long that she is big enough to rain fire.”

“Still. To warg into the sigil of your house is power,” Lord Karstark commented.

“Power… Grey Wind!”

The large dire wolf bounded over. He would soon be so big that he could be ridden into battle if one chose to do so. You looked at Robb and pointed to his wolf.

“They’ve always said the Starks are magic,” you offered.

His eyebrow raised like he didn’t buy what you were insinuating but Robb knelt down anyway and pressed his forehead to Grey Wind, running a hand through his fur. Robb’s eyes rolled to the back of his head till only the white part of them showed. Quickly his blue eyes returned and he backed away from his wolf to look at you and then his men. The man who first mentioned warging smiled proudly.

“A union of power is what the two of you are. For the first time, I believe in the Crown of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Robb kissed your forehead and said what he came into the courtyard to talk to you about. “We want you in the meeting.”

“A queen should know what her armies are doing,” the man said.

The corners of your lips curled upwards. They spoke to you the way they spoke to Robb and you felt warm knowing you had their faith behind you. You walked with them back inside. Anyone looking on would say the sight coming down the hall was terrifying— you and Robb with a dire wolf on either side, a dragon on your shoulder. Lord Karstark pointed to the map rolled out on the table.

“There aren’t enough men to immediately march to King’s Landing. Lannister men still outnumber.”

“Do we not have allies in Renly and Stannis, even roughly?” you asked.

“Renly’s army died with him. They fight under the Lannisters now. Stannis is as outnumbered as us, he won’t attack them again until he is stronger.”

“So we are stuck?”

“We could attempt an assault on Casterly Rock. King’s Landing is impossible but if we hit the soul of the Lannisters it would sway allegiance to us. However, it would be a great attempt. By the old gods and new, there is a strong chance we would lose this time.”

A man entered the room and grabbed Lord Karstark’s arm. He excused himself saying he would be back but his bannermen needed him. With faint nods of acknowledgement, the rest of you continued your discussion. Karstark could always be informed of decisions later.

“Then… wouldn’t it be smart to go home. Retake Winterfell, force the Greyjoys to bow to us again, try again when our men are stronger. We’d have a dragon, I could write to Jon and we’d have two.”

Bryden Tully— the Blackfish— laughed at your eagerness. “Even with two dragons, my Queen, you send your men home and they will not want to leave again.”

“Winter is coming,” Robb sighed. “If we go back to the North, it’s where we’ll stay. We could get a small band to find Arya and get Sansa but more than that would be near impossible.”

“Maybe that’s for the best? The North is ours and no matter how much Joffrey whines we will not bend the knee. Even tired Northernmen would defend it to the death if he was stupid enough to march on our land.”

“All respect, my Queen,” Bryden started. “Your speech struck something in the hearts of all those men. You and Robb give them hope. They believe in a future where The Crown takes care of them.”

“We can’t take care of them if they are dead.”

“The Lannisters wreak havoc on the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. Not all the men here are from the North. I’ve heard them talk, they can’t wait for the day they can chant your true name through the streets. What you’ve promised is a fair world that the Lannisters cannot deliver. They want to see it in their homelands. You already have love beyond the North.”

With a slow nod of understanding you decided to speak. “Then to bring them this world we need to be smart. We should try for Casterly Rock. I know where you can get more men but…”

The men followed your gaze on the map. You were staring at the Twins. Walder Frey had men upon men and could easily help you outnumber the Lannister army left at Casterly Rock. One of the men looked like he was mentally calculating.

“If we had House Frey back, we could do it. It is an assured win not a potential loss.”

“Frey left after my father’s letter. I cannot marry one of his daughters, I don’t have another Stark to promise him.” Robb’s mouth tight-lined.

“We’ll discuss this later, maybe send a messenger. Old Frey has to want something more than just the Young Wolf with one of his.”

Robb nodded. You and him moved to leave the room. The men could continue strategizing alone. With the discovery of warging, the two of you had a new task to figure out. Robb’s hand didn’t leave your waist as the two of you walked. You chuckled at the sight of Grey Wind. He was slightly larger than Godswood— you suspected because Godswood was found so far away from the others he was probably one of the runts, like Ghost. Even if he was a bit bigger than Ghost.

“Do you know of the rumors about you in King’s Landing?”

“Rumors?” Robb asked, eyebrow raised in intrigue.

“There are whispers that you can turn into a large wolf and devour your enemies, that you ride Grey Wind into battle.”

Robb laughed. “He’s still a pup.”

“A pup that is almost the size of a small horse. One day, you could.”

“One day, I might. And you?”

“What about me?”

“Will you ride Godswood or Shadow? How will you strike fear into the hearts of our enemies, beloved?”

“I don’t want to strike fear.”

Robb stopped walking and turned to face you. Both his hands rested on your waist now as he pulled you close to him. His eyes roamed over all your features, running over your hair, and finally settling on your eyes that had been watching him the whole time.

“I thought you wanted your house words? Fire and blood.”

“I demand fire and blood from those that owe us fire and blood. But I want a new world, a good world. One where children aren’t killed because they threaten legitimacy to a throne… one without the Iron Throne.”

“Didn’t you wa—”

“I know what I said but I was wrong. We don’t need another ruler on the Iron Throne, it is just a chair. A chair that brings misery. That chair doesn’t mark a good ruler. Your men follow you because they have trust in you, they see someone who can care for them like a leader. Sure, there is some fear because they know that a toe out of line and you will correct them. But that is understood as part of your job and it makes them trust you to be good to them even more. All of the Seven Kingdoms deserves that.”

“You are talking about breaking a wheel that has existed since the start of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Aegon Targaryen built the wheel when he conquered Westeros. A Targaryen will break it… I sound foolish don’t I?”

Robb shook his head and gave you a peck on the lips. “You are not a fool. Idealistic, maybe, but not a fool. You want a new world, we create a new world.”

“One like Winterfell, with great leaders like your father. Or the lords in Dorne.”

“A world just like that. But, beloved, to do that and build the world you want will require—”

“Fire and Blood,” you whispered.

“Fire and Blood.” Robb agreed.

You sighed because he was right. Running a hand through his head of curls, you smiled at the man you could now call your husband. King in the North was a title Robb deserved. King of the entire world was what you would give him if you could because it’s what he wanted to give you as well. You opened your mouth to say something else but stopped before a word could come out. Robb looked at your eyes that had widened and noticed you were no longer looking at him but past him. He turned and, at his feet, Lord Karstark dropped the two dead bodies of the Lannister boys that were being held prisoner.

“What did you do?” Robb asked, darkly.

“A father’s vengeance.”

“Vengeance? These boys did not kill your sons. Your boys were murdered by Jaime Lannister.”

You gasped. No one had told you of how Jaime escaped, you only knew that he had gone missing days before you were set to go to Riverrun and Catelyn was partially responsible for it. Lord Karstark laughed, a gruff sort of laugh.

“My vengeance against the Kingslayer was denied when your mother let him go.”

“My mother isn’t responsible for your treason. They were just boys!”

Robb’s yelling brought the other men out of the meeting room. Bryden and Edmure drew sharp breaths at the sight in front of them.

“They are enemies,” Karstark said. “In war you don’t keep company with your enemies, you kill them. Did your father teach you that before—”

Bryden punched Karstark before he could finish his sentence. He was gearing up for another swing when Robb stopped him, causing Karstark to laugh more. He taunted Robb, saying he should have let Bryden continue.

“Young Wolf? You’re soft, act like this and you will be the King who Lost the North.”

Grey Wind and Godswood snarled. Robb barely turned his head as he spoke to the men behind him.

“Hang all of Karstark’s men and escort Lord Karstark to the dungeon.”

“I’m just the lookout. I was just watching.” One of the men sputtered as he was being grabbed.

“Hang him last so he can watch the others die.”

Robb was heated when you two entered your room. As a result, Grey Wind was pacing and growling as well. He ignored as you called his name. Robb kept muttering about the Lannister boys until he just stopped suddenly. You watched as his eyes went white and then looked at Grey Wind. After a few breaths, Robb’s eyes were the ice blue you loved once again and he was calm. You walked up to him and grabbed the sides of his face.

“Are you better?”

Robb nodded.

“You still seem bothered.”

Robb smirked. “Am I? Would you like to help me?”

(Part 5)...

#game of thrones fic #asoiaf fic #robb stark x reader

[naomitours]

Tromsø, Norway: The North Above the North

I am not a "cold-weather" person, both in personality and in personal inclination. So you might wonder why someone like me would go to Norway in December. And if you asked me this after I actually got there, it would've been a damn good question! But I had a single reason, and a good one:

That's right, I went to see the northern lights. The green lady. "A-AURORA BOREALIS??", in the words of Superintendent Chalmers. People much smarter than me say this is caused by the sun's upper atmosphere emanating a solar wind that reaches *our* upper atmosphere. While not the most consistent place in the world to see it, Tromsø is one of the easiest and largest to try your luck.

Disclaimers from the Top of the World

The first thing you should know about Tromsø is that the sun doesn't come up for most of winter. You'll have light for a few hours, sure, but it's not the same. The meaning of darkness is different when it's ever-present, and those brief few hours of light mean everything. I found myself wanting to shed my coat and soak the light in through every pore of my body.¹ Depression is a real problem here, so is alcoholism. (I was even told by a local that they track alcohol purchases via card, to make sure nobody is drinking too much in the dark months!)²

The "sunset" over the Tromsø harbor, 1:35 PM.

The second thing you should know is that you need traction on your footwear. Pack your snow boots, or buy some shoe spikes because otherwise you'll be spending a good chunk of your time here on the ground, cursing the ice. My dumb-ass had decided to come to Norway on a whim, without thinking or preparing, so I showed up in my Doc Martens slipping and sliding. I almost couldn't make it to my Airbnb, my host having to come down and help me up the hills!! Thankfully I was able to borrow boots from my, again, incredibly lovely host³, but my god you've never appreciated gravel so much!

The Tromsø Troll Museum

That's right, the main attraction in the city, the reason you flew hundreds, perhaps even thousands of miles! This tiny museum with a bunch of trolls scattered all around!

It's a cozy space, and if you're as fascinated as mythology as I am, it's really a must-see if you're in town. Also, there's a replica of a hulder. According to local lore, these were beautiful women who would often try to lure men away from their human homes, to live in otherworldly pleasure with them⁴, or they would marry human men and join our world, retaining their otherworldly strength⁵!

Aurora Borealis

The biggest disclaimer I'd offer for the northern lights is this, you are never guaranteed to see them, even if you do everything "right". This was such a huge source of anxiety for me until I finally had a good sighting, then I was able to relax. I recommend doing some guided tours, these are not necessary (I saw them once right outside my Airbnb!) but it's going to maximize your chances by getting you away from the city's light pollution. There's many different modes of transportation for this, I myself took a bus and a boat, but I saw advertisements for planes, helicopters and even dog sleds*. The first time I ever witnessed the northern lights was on a sleepy little boat tour, New Year's Eve 2023.⁶

The interior was very cozy, more importantly it was warm, essential on a night with subzero wind chill. I enjoyed cookies and coffee and hot chocolate with marshmallows!

The lights don't look like the pictures, that should be stressed. The vast majority of aurora borealis photos are taken via long-exposure, and our eyes just don't work the same way. But on a good night you can see a faint green distortion in the sky, as if a riff into another dimension. It's like you expect an alien spaceship, or the giant hand of a monster to come ripping out of it, changing our world forever.⁷ But for the natives of Tromsø, it's just a day like any other.

View of the Aurora Borealis, from my Airbnb the next day.

I also recommend booking a few different tours, if you're like me and only really need to see it once, many will let you cancel on 24hrs notice if you pay extra. I recommend this as a good way to save money, but I'm kinda a cheapskate, so what do I know?

Also, please don't be discouraged if you don't see the lights on any given tour, you still do get some really beautiful photographs. It's important to keep a sense of relativity about you, you are standing at the top of the world, in the freezing cold. And in this moment you are having a novel human experience, regardless of whether or not you see some pretty lights on top of it.

What I Ate

Now, you might think the food is very bare-necessities in this sleepy arctic city, but you'd be surprised! One of the first things I had was something I had actually failed to find in Oslo, a delicious Norwegian donut called a skolebolle:

With a custard center and coconut flakes trimming the top, it's a deliciously sweet treat that I found in a Eurospar for the equivalent of a dollar. I recommend enjoying it with black coffee! Not pictured are the other things I got from the store, including paprika-flavored potato chips (highly recommended) and a large bar of Freia milk chocolate, which you'll not be disappointed by.

There's also an abundance of little convenience stores that will get you hot meals for relatively cheap (Northern Europe is expensive!) On the right you'll see a pepperoni calzone that was pretty good, along with a Norwegian soda that was less so. But if you're looking for a finer taste of Tromsø, stay with me:

This is a sampling I did of Aquavit, the signature liquor of Scandinavia. All of it was made right here in Tromsø, and I had a lovely guide for this tasting. To name a few, lingonberries and reindeer meat, not to mention a small slice of grapefruit.⁸ It's a little skimpy, however the point isn't to eat, but to taste!⁹

Conclusion/Takeaways

It can be a very scary thing, to be so far away from home. In all my years of travel, though that uncertainty has diminished, it never truly goes away. Maybe travel is just like any other experience, your tolerance to it builds until you only feel the original high when you get even further out of the world as you've known it. In this way, travel is much like a drug. But what moves me most about travel is its capacity to help us understand not just the planet we live on, but our own place within it. And if you ever feel lost for purpose, I might recommend standing on top of the world, hunting for otherworldly apparitions in the sky //

Footnotes:

¹ Of course, if you actually try to walk around in Tromsø without a coat, you will a)freeze to death and b)look stupid

² LITERALLY 1984

³ Of course, I had to return the boots when I left for the airport, meaning I fell not once, not twice, but THREE times trying to get down the hills to the bus stop. Seriously, you can't wear your Docs, no matter how fashionable and punk rock they are!

⁴ But why would you want to do that, when society is sooooooo good?? Like, who wants to live in a fantasy world where there is no suffering or want when we have Pizza Hut here, right now?

⁵ A hulder also features prominently on the cover of that one metal album by the murderous Nazi that your friend still listens to, despite knowing he's, you know, a MURDEROUS NAZI.

⁶ I would later go on to watch a man in lederhosen play The Weeknd, Cher, and at midnight ABBA's "Happy New Year", all on a keyboard. Dude was a one-man entertainment MACHINE, the vibe was immaculate.

⁷ As seen in Avengers 17: We Saved the World Again, in theaters this summer! Go watch it. Right now. The corporations demand it. DO IT. CONSUME.

⁸ Make sure your meds don't interact with grapefruit. Grapefruit may cause side effects including sour taste. Ask your doctor if grapefruit is right for you.

⁹ You know, like, a tasting menu or something!!

#travel #norway #tromso #tromsø #northern lights #aurora borealis #traveler #travel blog #traveling #places to visit #travel guide #footnote comedy for your soul

[hearts4robs]

Hiiii there!

Happy New Year ♡

Ooooh I have never done a match-up so I am really curious. I'm gonna go for DC because I only know this fandom and love those weirdos ♡

So I am a 27 years old bi non-binary person (they/them). I'd say I am pretty outgoing and very much talkative. I really like chit-chatting with strangers whom have dogs like at the train station. I am not much of a party person tho, I really like being home and reading stuff, listening to music or going for a nice walk with my dog while listening to my playlists. My favorite artists at the moment are AURORA, Laufey, Apshe, and Rain Paris. I have ADHD and a personality disorder which is why for now I am still under disability insurance but I am getting really well and I hope to finally be able to start my studies to become a librarian. I was very much a good student even for the few semesters I did at uni. I have a huge interest for literature and languages. I have studied latin, german, english, portuguese and arabic. Not fluent in many of them, but I do like taking the time to relearn stuff by myself from time to time. I am good at being self-taught, that's how I got my high school diploma since my health was a hindrance at the time haha. I am kinda a history nerd, love reading about religion in Ancient Greece especially in Attica and I love reading about the Witch Hunts in Europe and North America in the modern era. I do enjoy cosy "culture" and academia aesthetics. I am 5'6', dark brunette mid lenghth wavy hair (a wolf cut if you see what it is) with light brown eyes. I have huge fine golden glasses haha (already the librarian vibe). I am pretty chubby for now, eventhough I am losing weight due to feeling better health-wise. I love wearing button-down white shirts with vests or blazers or floral corsets and black turtlenecks haha.

Ideally, I'd love someone who is able to understand that I have some difficulties that others might not have, but who can be calm when it matters. I hate having huge arguments, if we need to argue I want to be able to talk it out. It's okay to be angry but I hate lashing out or being lashed at. A break to take some fresh air is okay if needed to have a civil conversation. I am not huge on receiving expensive/luxury gifts, it makes me awkward. I'd rather spend time with someone, cook with them or gift little things that are meaningful. I am huge on social activism. I do read a lot about different issues and it's important for me to listen to others and their experiences and try my best to do better with them and for them. I love my dog, she's a rescue and a peach. We lived a bit everywhere for a while because I was homeless around 20, but we managed and have a nice apartement now. I think I am pretty resilient as a person and I always strive do be kind and compassionate when possible because I know no one is born with all the answers and understandings of the world. I paint with watercolor from time to time, but I'd say my favorite hobby is reading and researching stuff because ADHD haha.

I don't like when people excuses stuff because of an illness. I can be an ass and it's okay to tell me and nobody should get a free-pass to be terrible to others. It happens to be shitty but you should strive to make it better if you couldn't avoid doing it at first.

I am a native french-speaker and half Portuguese. I am white European.

I can be a bit loud and outspoken but I always try to be mindful of the space I can take in a conversation with others because I don't want people to feel ignored. I can be adventurous, my 19 birthday was me going by train all alone with a backpack around the northern part of europe for a month. I would sleep at locals' place after talking to them on a specific website. It was great and fun and I saw so many museums ♡ I can be a bit of an airhead, and a tad much too sarcastic sometimes and I tend to switch conversations subjects often because I have links between them that makes sense to me but no one else.

My favortie tropes are friends to lovers, everything fluff, domestic, etc. There's beauty in the mundane ♡ I guess that when your mental health is a rollercoaster, you crave stability and calm easier haha ♡

I hope I gave you enough informations for your match-up.

Sorry, I am really a chatterbox haha ♡ Thank you and take care, dear ♡

𝐓𝐢𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐞: 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐞

“What are you doing?”

“I, uh, think.. I might be building you a bookcase, can’t promise you anything though. IKEA isn’t very clear in their instructions.” Tim says, turning the instruction book upside down in hopes of the illustrations making sense.

A chuckle escapes you as you set down a mug of hot chocolate beside his organised work place on the middle of your living room floor.

“You think?” You ask, taking a seat beside him with a soft grunt, happily letting your dog snuggle up beside you.

“Yes, it’s very frustrating and for some reason, it’s all in French.” Tim says, trying to screw a screw into the proper place. “No, no, that’s not right..” he mutters.

“You do know I’m fluent in French, right?”

Tim slowly glances at you sideways before letting out a huff.

“I can handle it.” He reassures, chewing his lip in annoyance. “Go read your Shakespeare and I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Headcanons:

Tim loves watching you read. He loves how you can both be nerds together.

You don’t live together yet but he visits often enough for your neighbours to know which days of the week you’re free.

He’s so supportive and tries his best to be a stable support system. You started out as friends and he let you crash at his for as long as you needed when you had nowhere to go.

Your dog is no longer “your” dog. It’s “our” dog to Tim.

It took him the whole afternoon to build that bookcase for you.

You’re such a sweetheart, I loved making this!! <3

#pls pet your dog for me🙏 #I thought Tim SO fast #also #Tim falls asleep while you read #★ robins match up event! ★ #★ match up event! ★ #★ robins events ★ #tim drake x reader #tim drake #dc x reader #dc #soft #timothy drake #Tim Drake dc #red Robin #red robin dc

[ladycatofwinterfell]

the night before her wedding to Brandon Canon unless you want it to be modern

Okay so once again I don’t know if this is the type of situation that was meant, but here are Ned and Cat in the godswood the night before her wedding to Brandon. Enjoy!

For years she had known she would be wed in front of a weirwood. Ever since Father told her of her betrothal to Brandon Stark she had known. That did not make it easier to see the twisted face that would watch over her as she became a woman wed.

The eyes were carvings in wood, still if felt like something watched her through them. The shadows shifting over the face made it seem alive. A being that was sad and hurting.

That was the face of the gods her betrothed believed in. Those were the gods that would watch over her for the rest of her days. Though they were not her gods.

Catelyn knew the mistake in coming there when it was dark. When the wind whispered in the trees and she heard things move without being able to see them. The light from her lantern created shadows all around her, every time she moved it felt like they reached for her.

It was a place of unease, not a place of solace. Frightening, unsettling. There she would give herself to her new husband.

When she heard a creaking she immediately looked towards the weirwood tree. Bleeding eyes looked back at her, pierced into her very being. Had they changed? Did the tree have a new expression? Was it watching her, judging her?

“Lady Catelyn?”

She whipped around and the light fell upon a person. With her heart in her throat she saw it was Eddard.

“You frightened me!”

She tried to sound strong, though her voice was shaking. She heard it herself, heard that she sounded weak. Not at all what she had to be, not at all the woman who would give the North heirs.

“I didn’t mean to” Eddard said. “Forgive me.”

When she said nothing he stepped further into the glade. Brandon’s younger brother, she had never met him before her arrival a few days earlier. Just heard what Brandon had to say.

“I wasn’t expecting to find you here, my lady, I would have announced myself” he continued.

“I wasn’t expecting to find me here, either” she said, trying to smile.

She believed she did fairly well. With that her face felt stiff and frozen.

Eddard did not return her smile. He simply looked at her before putting his own lantern down and coming to stand in front of the weirwood at her side. At a respectable distance, she would not have been able to touch him if she reached out towards him.

“No, there are no southron gods in this godswood” he said.

“I know. I just wished to see the place where I would be wed.”

He had the Stark look. Same brown hair and grey eyes, same long face. He certainly was a Stark. Though from what she had learned both from Brandon and during her very brief time in Winterfell he was a little different to his brothers and sister. Quieter, more somber. She was most likely wrong, she had yet to know him.

“There will be more light tomorrow, I believe” he told her. “Lanterns and torches. It will look less frightening then.”

The darkness was not what frightened her. No light would chase away the presence of unnamed and faceless gods. No light would make the tree change its face.

“I am not frightened of this place” she still said, defiant.

“I never said you were, my lady.”

His presence made it a little easier. He was so calm. Of course he was, he was standing in a part of his home, though that eased her worries.

“Though it is very different from the godswood in my home.”

Riverrun’s godswood was a garden. A place of comfort, where one could rest among flowers and birds. Winterfell’s godswood was no such thing, it was wild.

“Godswoods are not the same in the south. The one in the Eyrie does not even have a heart tree.”

He sounded a little sad when he said it. Catelyn shared that sadness, she was to live in a place with no sept. A northerner in the south and a southerner in the north. For the sake of alliances and peacekeeping.

“And Winterfell has no sept” she said.

For a moment their eyes met and she knew they were the same. It was strange. Very strange. She did not at all know him, he was almost a stranger. Only Brandon’s brother.

“That is true.”

Catelyn searched for more words, something more to say to him. Just to keep the silence away, keep it from taking hold of the glade once more. Though she found nothing and so heard only the rustling of leaves moving in the wind.

Eddard suddenly pointed up towards the trees.

“If you listen carefully you can hear the gods whispering in the trees” he said softly. “Perhaps you can hear your gods, too.”

Not even as she tried could she hear words or voices. It was simply leaves. Though she decided against telling him that. He wished to help, he showed her kindness even though she was as much a stranger to him as he was to her.

A shiver ran down her spine as a particularly strong wind swept through the godswood. It was late, dark and cold. It was time for her to return to the castle.

“It’s very cold” she said, wrapping her cloak tighter around herself.

The gloves she wore were not warm enough, her fingers had began to hurt.

Eddard hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth.

“You could borrow my gloves.”

Had her cheeks not already been flushed from the cold she believed they would have turned rather red then. For what reason she could not quite say.

“I am wearing gloves” she let him know.

“They do not look warm enough. Mine are.”

His tone was formal, it was obviously naught but a matter of practicality to him. And she so wanted to warm up her hands.

“But then you’ll be left without” she protested.

His hands were much larger than hers, he would not be able to take hers in return.

“Us Starks have hot blood, you need not worry” he insisted.

Hot blood, made for winter. Like the hot pools that ran below and through the castle. Made it habitable even during terrible cold.

Before she could say anything more he had already removed one of his gloves and then it would have felt stupid do stop him from doing the same with the second one.

Sheepishly she put down her lantern and began peeling off her own. She should have known better, she should have dressed for the cold night before she stepped outside.

“You are very kind” she said as she accepted his gloves.

“It is nothing. We are to be family, are we not?”

They were too large for her, but lined with fur and already warm from that he had worn them. She sighed in relief as flexed her hands, feeling the warmth returning to her fingers.

What he said was true, they were to be family. She wondered if he would return to Winterfell sometime soon or take up permanent residency down in the south.

“I should leave you to your prayers” she said, once again picking up her lantern. “I will have your gloves returned to you.”

Eddard’s grey eyes were somewhat different in that light. Softer than when she had seen them during the day.

“Would you like me to keep you company on the way back, my lady?” he asked.

Immediately she wanted to accept, though stopped herself. She had already taken his gloves and kept him from praying when that was what he had come to the godswood for. And she was no child, she knew the way and could walk back herself. The darkness was frightening, though nothing dangerous was hiding there.

“That is not needed. Though thank you.”

For the first time he smiled. A very brief little smile.

“Then I bid you good night, my lady.”

“I bid you the same.”

When she looked over her shoulder as she left he had already knelt in the snow before the heart tree. How strange they were, the northerners. Still she had a feeling of that she could come to like Eddard Stark.

#and then they began a bittersweet love affair that lasted a lifetime #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #ned stark #ned x cat

[dream-meister-translations]

FATE GRAND ORDER

GUDAGUDA SUPER GORYOKAKU #1

━

DEMON KING NOBUNAGA : I never expected things to come to this.

??? : That's what you always say, Fool of Owari!

??? : You may have walked a long and strange road to become the mighty demon King, but here in this place, at this very moment, our fates are evenly matched.

DEMON KING NOBUNAGA : Indeed, thus far... No... No... This must be the power of the Holy Grail...

??? : But of course, with the omnipotentence granted by my wish on the Holy Grail, there's nothing that can stand in my way anymore.

??? : ...Not even you...

DEMON KING NOBUNAGA : Hmph... Then so be it.

NAGAO KAGETORA : W-What!? An ambush! But we only just rayshfited!

NAGAO KAGETORA : I'm on my way!!

HIJIKATA TOSHIZO : Ughhhhhhhhh!!

??? : Hold, men!

NAGAO KAGETORA : Guh...!?

HIJIKATA TOSHIZO : Gah...!?

??? : Are you THE Kagetora, Dragon of Echigo...? What ridiculous nonsense. To think you would spit on the Northern God of War with such a feeble display of power. Don’t make me laugh.

??? : And you... Oh? Hmm… This spirit… Is this the manifestation of some kind of demon?

??? : One after another, how cunning…

??? : But it’s no use. No matter what kind of warrior you may be...

??? : You cannot surpass me!!

NAGAO KAGETORA : Nobunaga, there's no mistake, they deceived us!

NAGAO KAGETORA : We've been lured into a death trap...

NAGAO KAGETORA : Th-This place… It’s…

DEMON KING NOBUNAGA : ...Huh...?

OKITA SOUJI : No...!

DEMON KING NOBUNAGA : Master, you must go!

DEMON KING NOBUNAGA : It’s as they said. In this place. At this very moment… We have no chance of winning!

MASTER : I'll be back! I’ll save you!

TOSHIZO HIJITAKA : Okita! Saito! I'm going on ahead!!

SAITO HAJIME : Yes, Vice-Captain! I'll cover the retreat! Miss Nagao, I’m counting on you to take care of Master!

NAGAO KAGETORA : It's regrettable... but it seems we have no other choice…

NAGAO KAGETORA : Come Houshou Tsukige! We must break through!

NAGAO KAGETORA : Master! Don't let go of my hand!

??? : Oh, and here I thought you’d hesitate to leave your men on the battlefield. You’re surprisingly ruthless.

??? : You truly seem to understand what it means to be a general in spite of your appearance.

??? : And what of you, Fool? Have you no intention to retreat with them?

DEMON KING NOBUNAGA : Heh. You’re right. Normally I wouldn’t be caught dead serving as a Shingari on the rear guard. Such a role is far more suited to an insignificant nobody like him.

HIJIKATA TOSHIZO : Oh, shut up... Who exactly is the small fry here?

??? : Hm. Then why remain here in such a hopeless place?

DEMON KING NOBUNAGA : ...Because that is my duty.

??? : Because you are who you are, no...?

DEMON KING NOBUNAGA : There's nothing more to it. I am the one who bears the true name of Nobunaga. Which means in this place, at this very moment, there is no retreat.

DEMON KING NOBUNAGA : For here is where it all began. The path to my Demon Kingship!

DEMON KING NOBUNAGA : Therefore this… is Okehazama!

??? : Hahaha! Yes! That is exactly right!

??? : And you are the only mistake I ever made, nay, my archnemesis!

??? : Now, let us settle the karmic debt of our past lives!!

━

MASH : We lost connection to their heroic signals...!?

DA VINCI : Yes, it seems once they rayshifted into that Singularity, the connection dropped. We’ve lost our ability to observe them.

RANMARU X : The Singularity in question… Is Okehazama in Japan, is it not?

SION : We were able to track it up until the rayshift… What changed to make it so we couldn't observe it anymore...

SION : Could someone be interfering with the signal, perhaps?

MORI NAGAYOSHI : Hey hey, if it's Okehazama we’re talkin’ about. You can leave it to me. That’s my yard. But y’know, for someone constantly running his big mouth, that Demon King isn't reliable at all, is he?

ODA NOBUKATSU : Huh? Take that back! How can my sister possibly be unreliable?!

ODA NOBUKATSU : The way I see it, if we’re not even getting a reaction from my sister, then something terrible must have happened!

ODA NOBUKATSU : You need to hurry and send out a search, or, or reinforcements!!

DA VINCI : Easier said than done…

DA VINCI : Even the Servants we already sent were pushing the limits of our resources!

YAMANAMI KEISUKE : Demon King Nobunaga, Kenshin, Okita, and Saito… We prepared the very best team we could based on Aptitude, but...

MORI NAGAYOSHI : So you had to send Bishamonten alongside the Demon King? And they still lost? Now that really is something... Just who could do such a thing?

RANMARU X : We don’t know if they’ve been defeated for sure. We must start a search for Master Fujimaru!

DA VINCI : Ranmaru’s right.

DA VINCI : Fujimaru’s not the type of person to be defeated so easily…

DA VINCI : First we need to start investigating the Singularity so we can re-establish observation of their coordinates.

SION : Whether we can observe them or not, there’s still the issue of our dwindling resources.

SION : We won’t be able to provide backup immediately, but, Mr. Goredolf, please select the search team.

GOREDOLF : Y-Yes… You can leave it to me.

GOREDOLF : But I mean… Aren’t things supposed to be more… relaxed… than this with you guys involved?

GOREDOLF : How is it they say it again? Gudagu?

MASH : Director, this is not the time to be lazing around! The lives of Master and the others are at stake.

GOREDOLF : R-right... You’re right! Okay then it’s time to get tough!

━

NAGAO KAGETORA : ...I never thought it would come to this.

OKITA SOUJI : Even together, we’re completely helpless…

NAGAO KAGETORA : An ambush right after the Rayshift... And the enemy in perfect formation…

NAGAO KAGETORA : We were completely baited… What on earth happened…?

SAITO HAJIME : ...It’s best we shift gears and keep moving forward.

SAITO HAJIME : But this IS crazy… No matter how you look at it…

SAITO HAJIME : We need to find a way to break through and retreat.

OKITA SOUJI : Agreed...

OKITA SOUJI : But even if we escape, where exactly do we go?

NAGAO KAGETORA : We go East... If we can cross the mountain, we'll reach Shinano.

NAGAO KAGETORA : At the very least it should throw the enemy off our trail. We can use the darkness as a cover to make it through.

SAITO HAJIME : Alright, let's do it.

??? : I won’t let you escape that easily.

OKITA SOUJI : ...What!?

#Fate Grand Order #FGO #Fate #Fate Grand Order Translations #FGO Translations #Fate Translations #GUDAGUDA Super Goryokaku #GUDAGUDA #fgotranslations