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elsweetheart · 11 months

Text

cats cradle

synopsis: ellie and her failed lab experiment bestie navigate her first ever heat.

♪ lana del rey, the weeknd — stargirl interlude ♪

cw: whew, this is gonna be a lot. fem reader, reader is a failed lab experiment which gives her cat like appearance in a few ways (ears, tail, claws etc) not furry porn, reader is mentioned to be 20 purely just for detail purposes but you can just change to whatever in your head idk, readers tail touches ellie in the night without knowing really lol, smut / strap on sex / foreplay / dry humping, overstimulation, small blood kink feature but nothing crazy at all, reader is just crazy and horny and primal, cockwarming. lmk if i missed any !

an: alrighty, here it is. i cannot stress this enough — if this isn’t your kind of thing, please just don’t read it. i won’t be offended if you don’t, i just don’t wanna hear any bs in my inbox please! this was experimental and i don’t even know if i like this fic or not so please be gentle. to the people who have been so sweet and encouraging throughout my up and downs of writing this, thank you and i love you! as usual, minors and ageless blogs do not interact you aren’t welcome here. enjoy! 🐈‍⬛ 🤍

WINTER

Spring would be here soon. That was all you could think of, a dull anxiety thrumming in the pit of your stomach at the thought. You stared at the solitary bright yellow flower peeking through its blanket of snow, the downfall of ice from the blizzard outside the window beating it mercilessly against the wind— and yet it stood, continuing to pop back up, almost like it was taunting you. You wished you could love spring. The thing about seasons changing was that they happened without permission and whether you liked it or not. Truthfully, you loved the idea of flowers and dresses and warmth on your skin, but it made it all the more difficult to hide the…elements of you that people wouldn’t understand. You weren’t talking about scars, or hair or bumps, no. You were talking about —

“What’cha lookin’ at.” The mellow voice of your best friend Ellie Williams broke you out of your thoughts, traipsing up behind you to sit with you on the window seat, tucked into an alcove below rotting bay windows in the abandoned house the two of you were holed up in on patrol, whilst the blizzard outside came down hard. She gets comfortable, drawing her knees up as she leant against the chipped paint, accommodating to make more room for you. Your head snapped towards her, towards her grey hoodie that — wasn’t you wearing that last night? shutup, and her khaki green jacket zipped up over it, jeans and Converse and messy bun tucked into the nape of her neck. Pretty. Always pretty. Always just a friend you couldn’t touch. Not how you wanted to, anyway.

“Nothing? Just watching the snow fall.” You sigh out wistfully, knowing you’d both rather be in bed on this early, freezing cold morning.

“Yeah? Y’looked worried about something.” She rasps, toeing you with the dirtied white tip of her maroon chucks and tilting her head. You dart your eyes back to the yellow flower springing up to see it finally get pummelled down by a huge globe of powdery snow. Hah.

“Just scared the snow will cover up the door and lock us in here.” You nibble your lip, tugging your pink wooly hat tighter over your head, ensuring it was still in place. She shook her head, casually, and her blasé attitude to most things often eased any anxieties that dwelled within you.

“There’s a smashed window in one of the rooms I checked, can climb out if we need to. S’why it’s so fuckin’ freezing in here.” She rubbed her arms in tribute to this statement, puffing out her cheeks for a moment. “You not cold?”

“Oh, I’m cold.” You flit your eyes over her with faux judgement. “Just not being a baby about it.” She huffs out a laugh, folding her arms.

“Fuck you, dude.”

Dude. You roll your eyes. Always dude, but ‘baby’ in your late night daydreams. You scrub the thought away.

An hour passes, and the snow is still coming down hard. 8:54AM.

“Okay, I’m sorry — what do you mean you’ve never played truth or dare before. Have you like, never met someone your age?” She’s smirking, always relishing in your lack of general knowledge because honestly, it made her feel like she had more to offer and teach you. You’re drawing a palm tree on the window’s condensation, the tropical sight doing nothing to mask the dreary weather outside of it.

“Okay first of all, we aren’t the same age — you’re twenty-two. That’s a few more years of experience to learn stuff that I haven’t.”

“And how old are you again? Eighteen?” She pretends to think.

“Twenty. And you knew that, idiot.”

She snickers, muttering a teasing “Baby face.” under her breath, drawing a comical penis shape with her finger beside your palm tree making you tsk and swat her away.

“Secondly, no— my old camp were all like, old people. I was the youngest there. Didn’t have anyone to teach me any of your weird games.”

It took you about twelve years of your life to realise that normal preteen girls didn’t have pointed ears atop their head, or a tail, or retractable claws and fangs. You knew you were different, yes. No one else in your small camp had features quite like yours, and you really knew you were different because you spent your life in hiding. Under protection. Ears shoved under hats and tail bunched beneath tight jeans. Hence, you know — the fear of warmer weather approaching.

You didn’t quite know where you came from and you were okay with that. Whispers between the couple that raised you, talks of your real dad being a scientist before this all went down which explains things… enough. You didn’t really want to know how you ended up this way, because it couldn’t have been good — or ethical for you to grow up part girl part animal.

19 years old, and you had moved into Jackson. Found at the gate. No more camp. No more found family. Just a girl who survived, stood in the snow. You’d met Ellie, a friend of Jesse who’d found you — and the two of you had hit it off instantly, as friends of course. Ellie liked how different you are to her, pretty naive with lots to learn in comparison to her hard edges and weathered attitude. When you weren’t biting back playfully at her sarcasm you were the ray of sunshine she’d needed in the snow globe that she lived in. She’d even stepped up to take you with her on patrol and ease you into learning how to fend for yourself a little, a skill you never acquired with your old group. That brings you here, sat on a window seat, trapped by a blizzard, doing very little learning. Okay, back to you Ellie.

“Truth or dare is not weird, I swear. Look, we can play it. Pass the time whilst we wait for the blizzard to chill out. You in?”

“Okay.”

“So,” She crosses her legs now. “You can pick, truth or dare. If you don’t answer your truth, I get to pick a dare. And uh, vice versa. Yeah. It’s simple.”

You nod, and she continues — rambling in typical Ellie style.

“Like, okay. Truth or dare?”

“Dare!” You grin happily.

“Alright, I dare you to run into the blizzard naked.”

“Uh — truth! Truth!” You change your answer, making her laugh.

“Alright… tell me about your first kiss.” She’s giddy, on the precipice of a laugh, dying to make fun of whatever story you come out with and you falter, dragging your eyes back to the window. The palm tree you drew in the condensation is starting to drip and create long clear lines down the window.

“I already told you, never met people around my age so… haven’t had one.” You shrug, peeling a bit of old paint off the windowsill. You glance up and she’s nodding with her lips turned down, trying really hard not to look judgy because she wasn’t, she swears and she didn’t want you to feel bad. She tucked away the thought that she found it cute. Found you cute. The thought of being your first kiss flashed through her mind as quickly as she erased it.

“Alright. No shame in the game. We’ll get you there.” She pats your foot reassuringly and you tense up in embarrassment slightly, a claw spiking through the knit of your glove making you close your palm into a fist on your lap. Ellie had heaps of experience, which kind of made your confession more embarrassing.

“Your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth.” Her answer is almost instant.

“Boring.” You giggle.

“Whatever.”

You sigh… eyes wandering around the room, over the dusty canvases on the wall with paintings of mountains, perhaps the very mountains that surrounded your town— you couldn’t tell. What could you ask her? What did you actually want to know? What didn’t you already know? You bite your lip, eyes flickering around.

“Take your time.” She raises an eyebrow and you huff at her impatience.

“Okay, tell me something you’ve never told anyone else before. A secret that’ll literally bind us for life.” Your eyes twinkle and now it’s her turn to falter. She doesn’t want to glance at her covered arm, but she does anyway. Not that you’d ever be able to guess her big secret. No one could, you probably wouldn’t even believe her.

“Good question, see you’re getting the hang of it.” She raises her eyebrows, impressed and you bask in the sound of the icy winds outside, head slowly tilting to the side as you watch her grow a little uneasy. Ellie Williams, your best friend had a big secret. And you knew all of her secrets, so you were doubly intrigued. You knew about the time her and Dina got too drunk and kissed before practically yelling at eachother that it felt too wrong and they’d never do it again, you knew about the time she didn’t wanna trade any items at the little store for food so she selfishly shoved a can of tomato soup in her pocket and ducked out, knew all the rest of them because you remember her drunkenly shoving her hand over your giggling mouth and whispering “You actually can’t tell anyone, okay? Shit, why do I tell you these things?”

“Okay. I’m immune.”

“To being slapped? Answer my truth or face your forfeit.” You were grinning ear to ear, like she thought you would and — she nearly wanted to just leave it there. Let you believe she was joking. But oh, your perceptive self. You saw the falter of her bashful expression, the way honesty coloured her face and for once she couldn’t make eye contact. Surely not? “Immune?” You repeat, more like a statement but you’re confused nonetheless.

“Uh, yeah.” There’s no humour in her tone and yet you’re still smiling, waiting on her still to smirk or chuckle or something. When you just stare at her, she starts to undo her jacket. “I can uh, I can kind of prove it, I guess?” She pushes her hoodie sleeve up, and you’re faced with the tattoo you’ve stared at many times before. The pink pad of her finger traces along the inside of her arm, and your eyes focus — honing in on the faint scar curtained behind the dark blue ink. “There… was a bite here. Me and my friend were together when we were kids and we both got bit. She turned and… yeah, guess I’m still waiting.” Her eyes were distant, and yeah — Ellie played jokes on you sometimes. You were gullible and naive, not having faced the usual prankish behaviour of people similar in age to you before but this? She wasn’t that great of an actor. There was actual, real life pain behind her avoidant gaze.

“You’re serious?” You furrow your brows and she purses her lips, a pinkie-finger of gesture held in the air.

“Swear.”

You stare at her arm, and she reaches for her jacket again — feeling the chill of the house again despite an uncertain heat creeping up her neck. “How do you know it wasn’t just a one off?”

She shrugs. “Guess we’ll know if I get bitten again.” She chuckles dismissively. You go to speak, tell her how life changing her secret was but she’s quicker. “Alright, your turn. Now I’ve told you something no one else knows you gotta do the same. Biggest secret, go.” She exhales, and it feels like the room is alleviated of some of the pressure.

“Excuse me, what if I wanted to pick dare?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Well then.”

Your ears twitched and you brought your knees to your chin. Ellie was just so vulnerable with you, but you’d always been told — under every single circumstance not to tell anyone about your…rarity. It was something that not even you understood, so sharing it with others could put you in danger. People often lashed out at what they didn’t understand, you were told it was that way in the old world too— though you’re sure people weren’t quite dealing with being a hybrid with a literal animal.

“I’m not sure you’re ready for my secret.”

“Dude, I just fucking told you I can’t get infected, you’re not gonna top that.” She exasperated, prodding your leg with her knuckles. She didn’t beat around the bush with her secret, or make you beg for the reveal — so you figured you’d cut straight to the chase. You pulled your hat off your head, ears standing to attention — hearing just that tiny bit clearer. Ellie raised an eyebrow, not sure what she was looking at, about to make some kind of comment like ‘Uh, your secret is that you have hair?’ — until her eyes darted up and stayed there. You pulled off your gloves too and held your hand between the two of you, sharp claws extending. Ellie jumped, and you pulled back shamefully.

“What is… what am I… what am I looking at?” She gawked breathlessly, eyes widening at the way your ears twitched shyly, the outside of them coated by fur the same colour as your hair, the inside of your ears pink, sprouting wispy white hair from it. Ellie could barely keep her mouth closed.

“Yeah, so… I’m like a girl who is also a cat who is also just a girl— nothing weird I swear — apparently my dad was a scientist and he made some fucked up combination DNA and — ah, it doesn’t matter. I’m a freak. Laugh it up.” You ramble, waving your hand in a way you hoped was dismissive and in that moment a gun to your head wouldn’t have made you make eye contact with the auburn haired friend parallel to you.

“Hey, wait — I’m just trying to… holy shit?” She furrows her brows before chuckling. “I feel like I’m having a weird ass dream right now, dude.”

You reach for your hat to shove it back on, and her heavy hand lays on top of yours. She watched the way your ears flattened like aeroplane wings and you frowned a little. “I’m sorry… I’m not laughing at you. That’s… fucking awesome. You’re like a comic book character, man.”

Your eyes lifted from her hand, heart thundering in your chest both from her reaction to your big reveal and her hand laying on yours. “So, a freak.” You go to move your hand but she grips it.

“No, just… cool… don’t… put your hat back on yet. I’ve got questions.”

A pause sat between the two of you, and she broke out into a smile again. “Fuck you, your thing totally beats my thing.”

“Thats not a question, Els.”

11:20AM

“So does this mean you’re immune too? Pretty sure animals can’t get infected.”

The window had fogged over completely now, view of beyond the window obstructed but you didn’t mind. It felt more enclosed, in a good way. The outside world didn’t exist anymore.

“I’m not fully an animal though. Don’t wanna risk finding out.”

She sat back, looking at you incredulously. Not like you were a spectacle, or a circus performer from the old world — but like you were something magnificent. Like a unicorn, or a fairy.

“This is gonna… take me some time to get used to. You sure you’re not fuckin’ with me?” She turns her head suspiciously.

“Oh I’m pretty sure. Had to live my whole life with cat ears and a tail, would be a awfully sick prank.” You huff, focusing your attention on scraping off the shimmery pink nail polish you had acquired on a previous patrol. You’d painted them to distract from the subtle claw-like appearance they had even when they weren’t extended.

“You have a tail? Show me.”

“Oh yeah, I’ll just pull down my pants.”

“Oh shit, yeah. My bad.”

You sat together, and you shifted under her gaze, palms itching to pull your hat back over your ears, shielding yourself from her prying gaze. This was… out of your comfort zone. You trusted Ellie with your life, sure. But this was a lot. You’d been hiding this element to your self your whole life and suddenly you’re practically hollering it from the mountain tops all because you were enticed to share a secret during a silly little game? Who else would you tell just because they’d given you positive attention?

“You wanna touch my ears?” You blurt out. What the fuck?

Ellie’s smile grew, telling you her answer and it was too late to take it back now. She slid her ass forward a little, knees pressing directly against yours now and lifted her hand slowly, carefully, almost as though you’d spook like a real cat if she moved too quickly. You seemed to blink, and then she was right there, her face so close to yours that her warm breath fanned over your face making your eyelashes tickle at the breeze she created. She clears her throat, eyes just floating up above your hairline and you feel the pads of her fingers gently trail down the backs of your ears.

She lets her knuckles gently smooth back the velvety fur coating, before getting more comfortable — short blunt nails scratching right in that sweet spot behind them. With the ball of her hand gently pressed to your temple as she scratched, you melted. The best way to describe it would be the feeling of sinking into a hot bath after being out in the cold wind, rain and snow. A sheet of goosebumps lined up across your arms and up your spine, your tail struggling in your jeans to curl up in pleasure. There was a gentle humming sound, like an engine maybe… a low rickety wind passing through a wooden floor board…

“Are you purring?” She cooed, and your eyes fluttered open. You don’t even remember closing them. The ghost of an alarmed bullet shot through your body but it just… felt too nice to react. Your pupils were dilated to fuck, it was almost startling to see.

“I guess.” You chuckle, a shudder flying through you, the warm purring sound continuing on. “Sorry.” You offer, but it’s half hearted.

“No, don’t.” She whispers with an impressed smile, eyes pinned by your intense gaze — voice gentle, as if not wanting to break the intimate force field she’d created around the two of you. “You’re so… cute.” She grins enough to show her teeth now, you rest the weight of your head more into her hand, pushing for more scratches now that her fingers slowed down, distracted. Your eyes flutter closed, sleepy and euphoric— and then open once more, a constant battle between wanting to just melt away, and also wanting to look at Ellies beautiful face so close up. She seemed to get closer each time you opened them, eyes drifting from your blackened gaze… to your lips…

Maria’s voice was the last thing you expected to hear in that moment and you both jumped. It was static-y, buzzing, making your head snap towards the radio Ellie had let clatter to the floor beneath the window seat. “Blizzards gone and cleared up now, two of you can start headin’ back now before it decides to pick up again.”

You swipe at the fogged window creating a viewing hole through the condensation, snow settling now instead of batting down hard against the ground. You sigh out, and you’re not sure if it’s in relief of the weather clearing up or the tension breaking — but Ellie seems to be shaking herself out of it too.

“Alright, uh — y’ready to head back out there kitty-cat?” She’s back to her usual self, hopping off the window seat and scooping her backpack and radio off the ground, securing them back onto her person.

“Ready as ever. Can’t wait to go home and nap.” You stretch, now standing beside her waiting for instruction. She sways in your direction with a smirk, raising a brow.

“A cat nap?”

“Are you gonna do this from now on?” You hide your amusement, leaning on your hip. She chuckled to herself, pulling her gloves back on before nodding her head for you to follow — taking off in a casual stride.

“Sorry. Let’s go get Shimmer from the garage.”

You pout, padding along behind her as you think of her stood there alone. “I hope she wasn’t too cold. She was shut in there for ages.”

“She’ll be fine. Old girl’s a trooper.”

SPRING

You didn’t regret telling Ellie, infact you were so glad.

It seemed to have brought you closer, the two of you against the world. The weather had finally cleared of snow by mid April, the green returning to all of nature. She’d helped you accommodate, coming to your home in the mornings and helping you pin your ears down to your head, gently manoeuvring your hair to sit on top of them, inconspicuous. Asking you “Does that hurt?” and “Can you hear?” in a sleepy morning voice. You, on the other hand would sit there trying not to pur at her touch. There was still some bite in the air, especially around evening time so you could still get away with stuffing your tail into your jeans, but the two of you often walked around in the sunshine on the days one or both of you weren’t outside the gate on patrol. Nights were spent having sleepovers, falling asleep cuddling because you know — it was convenient and cold at night time, especially convenient if you were getting up early for a patrol together. Definitely not because you wanted to spend every waking moment together.

You had been curled up reading, relaxed, ready to head to bed in an hour or so when there was a knock at your door. Your ears perked up, and you scuttled out of bed and looked through your peep hole, relieved to find the wind bitten, pink cheeked face of your best friend. You figured she’d just gotten back from patrol, swaddled in a khaki green windbreaker and jeans, hair in your favourite style — half up half down. You swing the door open, ushering her in.

She doesn’t mean to ogle you, but it happens anyway — eyes drawn to your bushy tail shyly curling round your thigh, a hole cut in the back of your pyjama shorts specifically for that reason when you turned around. “Hey you, couldn’t be bothered to walk all the way back to my house. Plus, I got somethin’ to show you.” She wiggles her brows, heading to your room.

“Y’want a drink?” You call after her to which she promptly replies with “Please!” already disappearing into the warm comfort that was your bedroom. Your bedroom, a God damn hassle for Ellie to construct. You had… a vision, and that vision became Ellie’s problem when you’d started to build your little home space. “Els if you see any pink blankets on your patrol today please please please grab me one?” “Ellieeee I need a picture frame, like — a cute one.” “If I don’t get a fluffy throw cushion for my bed soon, I might die.” The list goes on. Her patrols were ever-filled with heavy backpacks, trinkets carefully balanced on top of eachother or stuffed into pockets. She smiles warmly at the memory, walking around your room — taking in each item along with its memory of finding it and smuggling it back into Jackson. Her eyes are glazing over your bed sheets now, thinking about you curled up in the you-spaced shape you’d left on the blankets, thinking about you fast asleep in the night beautiful as ever, thinking about you writhing on them with less clothes on — gross, Ellie — shake it off.

A matted tuft of darkened hair peeped from your mass of bed covers and Ellie squinted, bending over to get a closer look before pinching it with her fingers and lifting it. A clump of hair sat in her palm and she raised her eyebrows. Was that a —

“What you lookin’ at?” Your voice is sudden, lighthearted, right behind her— and she jumps, turning her head over her shoulder to glance at you guiltily. You stand wide eyed and innocent, a glass of water for her clutched in your hand.

“Jesus, fuck — we gonna have to get you a collar with a bell on it or what?” She rolls her eyes, clutching her chest before recovering, taking her glass and sipping as she holds up her findings. For a moment, something twitches in you down below at the thought of wearing a bell around your neck for Ellie. The feeling is warm and homely and disgustingly horny and you feel a little shame. She swallows her water an ‘ah’ and explains “Was just uh— I found a fur ball.”

You look at the clump of hair in her hand, then up at her, then back to the clump — and then you’re moving past her. You straighten out your blankets, revealing a hair brush and hold it up— plucking the ‘hairball’ from her hand and grasping it side by side. “From my hairbrush… doofus.”

Ellie makes an ‘o’ shape with her mouth and chuckles, scratching her arm awkwardly after placing down her glass — feeling maybe she’d jumped to a conclusion. This feeling is unfortunately confirmed when she sees your brows furrow, softening in stature ever so slightly.

“Do you really think I’m like… dirty and animalistic? I don’t get fur balls, Ellie.” You sound defeated and just a smidgen whiny, but she’s a sucker for it and grasps your arms gently either side with two strong hands.

“No! I’m an idiot! I’m sorry. Total jackass.” She reassures and you tilt your head, pout turning into a gentle smile. This gives her the green light to move things along. “However, I did get you a little something that might help us understand your… condition a little better.” The auburn haired girl is already shucking off her black beaten up backpack, struggling with the zip for a moment before sliding out a thick hard back book, a manual of some kind. Her eyes are on you, searching for any sign of offence and you catch the title when she spins it around proudly — ‘Caring for your kitty’.

She’s off like a race car with an excited explanation before you even get the chance to breathe, opening it up and flicking through it. “Stopped at that old library today, you know the one we thought the entrance was blocked off and we couldn’t go inside? Well — Jesse found another way in — so I was just lookin’ around, seeing if there was anything interesting and I found this bad boy. It tells you everything you need to know about caring for a cat and well… don’t wanna be a dick but… I’m caring for a cat, kind of.”

As she spoke, your grin only widened — pathetically, and totally embarrassingly so, because it was going against everything you had taught your self. You’d wanted to push this side of you down for what, your whole life? And then Ellie comes along, with her pretty green eyes and her tattoo and her hand veins and her — whatever, and suddenly you’re completely and utterly embracing the fact you’re like, absolutely fucked up, genetically? Crushing on your best friend makes you do crazy, stupid things. You bat your eyelashes at her, regardless.

“You care for me?” It was kind of a joke, but your voice came out softly anyway and Ellie couldn’t look at you because of it, continuing to thumb through the pages, very concentrated, what was that one page again?

“Why’d you think I brought this big ass manual back? Wanna look after you.” She mutters. You soften completely, and she realises that she said that out loud. You look at her, and she looks at you — and then she looks away because God damn, she’s falling in love. “Anyways. Thought we could go through it together. You got those sweatpants I left here? My jeans are like, damp.” She rambles, and you let it slide — though you’re positively floating when you point her to your dresser, pressing the neatly folded grey pants into her arms with a hazed out smile. “Thanks.”

You turn around when she changes. You’re not sure why, she’s wearing boxers — and you have some skirts stashed away that are probably shorter and more revealing (which you unfortunately couldn’t wear due to having a tail) but you look away anyways, out of respect. You clamber back onto your bed waiting for her, and soon she’s sliding up beside you in just her black tshirt and sweatpants, comfy and warm. Ellie clears her throat, sitting up against the headboard and opens the manual for the two of you to check out. “Ahem, caring for your kitty. With special thanks to Juliana.” She reads formally and you giggle, scooching closer until your cheek is pressed to her arm so that you could see the book. “Shout out to Juliana.” She comments, flipping the page.

You snuggle in closer to her, because well — it feels natural. The two of you had always been affectionate since becoming friends and since you’d shared your secrets it had only become more binding. When Joel had comment that you two were literally attached at the hip, it was by no exaggeration. The fat of your cheek pushed up enough to shut one eye as you practically tried to merge with her bicep, warm breath tickling her light arm hair.

“Y’always smell like oatmeal.” You comment, voice sleepy from her warmth and she’d barely even gotten the chance to read anything yet.

Her hand freezes on the page for a millisecond as she acknowledges your statement. “So— wait, oatmeal? That’s gross dude. I don’t wanna smell like oatmeal.” She complains, causing you to lift your head having busted out into a giggle fit. She lifts her hand and sniffs it, looking at you with a displeased expression trying to decipher your observation.

“No! It’s a good thing I like it. It’s just… Ellie smell.” You rub your eye tiredly and she’s fighting every urge not to kiss all over your cheeks at how God damn adorable you are.

“Oatmeal. Great.” She chuckles, shaking her head before nudging you with her elbow — a silent command for you to lay back down on her so that she could read.

And the two of you did, for a little while anyway. The manual was more helpful than the both of you had originally thought, and you came to realise that you had a lot more in common with the animal than you’d had believed. Between each paragraph, the two of you would launch off into conversations and comparisons, Ellie asking you questions about your behaviours and habits. It made your heart swell at how much she truly cared. “Kitten will feel attached to her owner when being scratched behind the ears.” Ellie reads out monotonously, thinking, before reaching up and scratching behind your ears. “To say I’m your owner would be a little crazy, I must admit. Can’t deny you some good old scratches though.” She chides in amusement, watching your happy smile melt into a dozed pur. You can own me, Ellie — God you can —

She read and read and read until you were nodding off, eyes fluttering shut and disappearing off into a dream land as Ellie’s raspy voice trails off, fondly watching you as your lips parted a little, more of your warm weight sinking into her side. “Okay.” She whispered, to no one in particular— and closed the book quietly, stretching to reach behind her and place it on your bedside table, turning off your lamp too.

Ellie was always a light sleeper, maybe she was paranoid or just protective — because she seemed to wake up constantly when she’d stay with you. Not that you didn’t make her feel more relaxed than anyone ever had, because you certainly did. She just… fuck, she didn’t know. She needed to be alert at all times. Just in case.

Tonight was like any other time, stirring at the cooing of a heavy wind outside the rattling windows. Her eyes found the back of your head immediately and settled a little, comfortable and dozed with the feeling of your ass grazing her front and the warmth of your back blanketing her. You slept like two people in love and if she were more awake she’d probably mourn the relationship that was out of her grasp. Too much of a pussy, too much of a risk to ruin things. But this, this she could enjoy in her half awake consciousness.

She was about to drift back off, perhaps a deeper sleep this time knowing that everything is alright and you’re safe from the harsh winds of Spring. Until, she felt a prodding. That was the best way to describe it. Like you were poking her, despite both of your arms being curled at your front visibly. She panicked for a moment, which woke her enough to open her eyes and gaze down at whatever the hell was poking her in the stomach. Your tail.

It curled at the end like a question mark, curious and wandering. She watches, fascinated at how you could be sound asleep and yet your tail had a mind of its own. It knocked on her, like it was asking for entry before it poked lower, lower, Jesus, lower. Without time for her to respond, your tail slots itself between her thighs, curling around and cupping her cunt. She gasps, bringing a hand up that was originally going to cover her mouth, but ran over her own head instead, frozen and unsure of what to do in this situation.

Why was your tail touching her up whilst you slept innocently on the other end of it? She knew you were sleeping for sure because of the quiet snores and the even quieter hum of your pur — making her wonder how she never noticed it before you’d told her about your rarity. Your tail slithered like a snake as if trying to get comfortable, which made Ellie’s mouth hang open as it practically moulded itself to the shape of her. The agile tip of your tail curled around, brushing against the material of her sweatpants all the way up to her clit and she winced, enough to stir you a little. Your tail seemed to go a little limp as you groan quietly, your sleep disturbed. God, what if she wakes up and finds me like this? Her fucking tail getting me off. That’s weird, oh god — you’re a creep Ellie. Move, move now. Jesus.

She spins around so the two of you are back to back, staring at the wall. Ellie clenches her thighs so that your tail can’t slip through them and grope her again, frowning as she squeezes her eyes closed in shame at how good it felt. It was wrong. Wrong and creepy and awful and she hated herself for letting it go on for that long. She willed herself to sleep, repeating those words like a mantra.

The next day you plant flowers together in the community garden. She doesn’t bring it up.

SUMMER

There were certain pages in the manual that the two of you would skip. It was too awkward, too intrusive — pages you would separately read in your own time.

If you don’t get your female cat spayed, they’re going to go into heat. How exciting! And if you’re experiencing kitty in heat for the first time, you’re probably wondering: how do I cope with this? Dealing with a restless, frisky kitty may seem like a challenging task, but it’s not nearly as difficult as you may think. We’ve outlined plenty of quick tips and suggestions to help calm your cat down in the short term, as well as some solutions to prevent heat in the long term. In just a few minutes, you’ll be able to give your loving furball the support and respite she needs during this tough time.

Ellie snickered when she read it the first time, a night where you’d fallen asleep at her house, curled up on the end of the bed by her feet. You hadn’t meant to fall asleep there, it just happened — trying to give yourself space on the particularly warm evening. Not everything in this manual applied to you, like you’d insisted plenty of times — you’re mainly all human. Despite the purring, you hadn’t felt you’d demonstrated any feline-like behaviours (Ellie disagrees strongly, but can’t bring herself to argue.) That night she had sat up later, reading about cats in heat — wondering if… you’d ever… what would she do… no, Ellie. Stop.

When summer had approached, something had flipped. Things were normal until they weren’t— and at first you could blame it on the weather, the serotonin flooding everyone’s systems from the influx of Vitamin D, being able to wear less and enjoy more. Days seeming longer. Life seeming better. You’d grown more affectionate with Ellie, not fighting the urge anymore to be touching her at all times. Gently sinking your teeth into her freckled skin when you felt the urge, wrapping your tail around her leg when you’d stand side by side in your kitchen, clambering onto her lap with the manual and urging her to read some more so you could get sleepy and comfortable and fall asleep on top of her. You saw the way people would look at the two of you around Jackson together, they thought you were together — and you didn’t mind — even though you weren’t. Just two super close best friends.

When the calendar had rolled over to July, things seemed to intensify by ten. Things were changing, urges growing stronger. You couldn’t control yourself purring when Ellie would simply enter the room, kneading your claws into your seat of the canteen area pulling up threads, needing to be near her. Practically vibrating the floorboards in total bliss when she’s give you a friendly, subtle ear scratch in public being careful not to unpin your ears. Saliva pooling inside your mouth with the urge to lick her all over when she’d arrive to your home late at night after a rough patrol, ready to crawl into bed beside you and surrender herself to your grabby paws hands. Wanting to pounce on her when she’d greet you by the gardens, knuckle knocking gently beneath your chin with a friendly “Mornin’ kitty-cat.” Worst of all, the growing neediness you’d succumb to each night you weren’t together, mewling as you’d grind against a pillow pretending it was her thigh, soaking the sheets. You were starting to accept that you were experiencing your first ever heat.

You particularly enjoyed summer evenings in Jackson. The air was was balmy and warm without the scalding, overwhelming sunshine like there was in the day. Most if not all citizens would be in the town centre at movie night or the bar — which created a perfectly calm and empty landscape for walks. It was one that day, the one that’s about to unfold — that you were particularly dazed. You felt high, sensitive, walking on air. You wear a bell around your neck now, a giggly patrol gift from Ellie — something that tinkles quietly and could be confused with simple jewellery to the untrained eye. It sounds each step you take, a comforting noise that was special to you and your best friend. Your summer dress grazed above your knees, and due to no one being around, you didn’t quite care that your tail would occasionally peak out when a warm breeze would pass through.

You stroll past the flowers you and Ellie had planted in spring, stroll past the empty playground with the wooden climbing equipment that you had to continue walking on from to not give into the urge to dig your aching claws into. Your mind was set on finding Ellie — Ellie, Ellie, Ellie, who’d supposedly just be returning home from patrol. As expected, nothing quite getting past your astute cat wisdom — there she stood, facing away from you in just her adorable oversized white tshirt, greenish brownish greenish flannel and long baggy denim shorts. Your whole body felt hot and the sight of her, heart pumping and palms tingling. Approaching slowly, you hear her quietly talking to Shimmer as she undresses her of her equipment, occasionally stopping to give her affectionate pats and love. Ellie was always good with animals.

Figures.

You step closer, alerting Ellie of your presence. “Here kitty.” She smirks, continuing to remove Shimmer’s saddle before turning over her shoulder, eyeing you briefly.

“How’d you know I was here?” You swoon, dumb smile on your face as you step up to her. Probably too close, but something inside of you was clawing to be able to smell her, be able to feel the warmth radiating off her body. She doesn’t react to the proximity, just lifting a finger and jingling the bell at your neck. You fight a shudder when her coarse fingertip grazes the soft skin of your neck.

“Hard to miss you. That bell was definitely a good investment, you’re not sneakin’ up on me anymore, huh.”

She continues tending to Shimmer as you watch, a fond smile on your face.

“How was patrol? ‘Missed you.” You tug at her flannel sleeve for attention and she chuckles good naturedly, rolling her eyes.

“Wasn’t gone for that long, was I? You’re always missing me lately. Is somethin’ up?” She turns her head to you again inquisitively, concern flashing through her eyes — as well as the stream of bright light from the sunset through the crack in the barn wall. She squints.

“Uh…” You sigh out softly. Yes. I need you. I want you. Come here. Fuck me. “No. I dunno.” You shrug, forcing yourself to look away, defeated. No, you’re here for a reason. “Can you come over tonight? Sleepover?” You realise you’re still clinging to her sleeve and she’s letting you, her eyes drifting to the way your hand slides downwards and catches her hand, intertwining your fingers. You know, just best friend things.

“Jesse asked me to hang out but…” She started, but trailed off when you became all fluttery lashes and bambi-eyed. “Fuck it,” She breathes. “I’m too tired for his shit today anyway.”

You grin, successful and tilt your head. “Not too tired for my shit?” and she scoffs, squeezing your hand.

“Never.”

She steps back, your joined hands bridging the two of you still. Her eyes are trailing down again. That little sundress, she hadn’t seen that before. Maybe hanging in your closet, but not out of the house. Her eyes dip lower and she sees a flash of fur swinging behind you, jostling your dress. Her eyes widen a little. “Hey.” She emphasises, nodding her head down. You’re still staring at her, at her freckles and the way they’re shaded from the sun — a halo of bronze and natural flush.

“Hm?” You sing. She furrows her brows.

“Your dress is short.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“What? Uh— fuck, I mean, yeah — but I’m saying other people might see your…” She nods again in gesture, nervous.

“Tail?” Your fingers trail up her flannel sleeve a little.

“Yeah. People might not be as… open to all that, babe.” Babe. A slip up, usually — usually said when she wanted to soften the blow, or when she physically couldn’t stop the affection from meeting her lips. You preened at the word anyway, didn’t even bother to hide it.

“No one’s around.”

Your claw traces the blue green vein on her pale wrist. You don’t remember it coming out, these days it seemed they just did it on their own. She winces at the light scratch, but she lets you anyway. Just ogling, wide eyed, a little confused and a little turned on — which confused her all the more. She silently begged herself, get a grip.

She tore her hand away, hoisting her backpack off her back and swinging it around — damn near smacking you in the face with it. “Got you a present. Know you like those.” She rushes out, sounding a little out of breath like she’d been running. You liked it, liked that you did that to her. You’re smiling and she’s like, ignoring it — because she knows you know you flustered her and that’s not like Ellie. Not like calm and collected Ellie Williams.

“For me? You shouldn’t have.”

She digs around, pulling out a black rectangular VHS tape. Hard to come by, but always a delight seeing as you had a TV facing your bed in your room that refused CD discs and would only play grainy tapes. Ellie turned it in her hands, displaying the white tape across the front that read in someone unknowns Sharpie’d handwriting ‘Disney Aristocats’

“Think it’s about cats. Thought it would be funny.” She chuckles humbly, her ‘you hate it. fuck my life.’ thoughts kicking in as expected.

“We can watch it tonight!” You grin, gently taking it from her — clutching it proudly in your hands. She relaxes, shoulders unstiffening.

“Cool. Uh, yeah.” She nods, scratching her scalp which made the half-up-bun bob at the back of her head. She looks at you, and then looks around, and then back at you. Always back at you. “Alright. Let me go home and shower, you go set everything up and I’ll be round soon. Just… get outta here, before anyone sees you. Yeah?” Ellie exasperates, softly clapping two hands down on your shoulders and spinning you around, carefully nudging you to start walking away.

“M’kay. See you then, Els.”

“See ya, trouble.” Eye roll. Or maybe her eyes just rolled back at the sight of you swishing away in your little sundress. She’s not sure.

You were stood in front of the mirror when the door knocked. Your heart jumped — like you weren’t expecting Ellie to even come for some reason — but more so because you wasn’t sure you could get away with pyjamas this skimpy. You wanted to seduce her, sure. But this was just obscene. You wore, what essentially was just a long tank top. It fell mid thigh, flimsy and thin, showing every curve and dip and plumpness to you. You didn’t ever feel insecure around Ellie, no — but she might just call you a slut.

There was no time to change, so you ran and got the door, feigning confidence. Something was… different about the way she was stood there. Her hands were in her jean pockets awkwardly, like she didn’t know what to do with them. She’d actually cleaned up surprisingly, wearing her jeans and off white wifebeater. She somewhat looked like she was trying, but maybe that was all in your head. She didn’t look you in the eye either, thick brown lashes fluttered slightly as her eyes jumped down you in segments. Tits, then tummy, then hips, and then tail. The sight of it flapping about freely made her usher you inside quickly, always aware of the risks.

“Hey furball, y’ready to watch the movie?” She clears her throat, looking around your house like she’d never seen it before. Nervous? Something else?

“Told you not to call me that, doofus. But yes, follow me.” You giggle, and that’s all you seem to do around her these days if not purring — constant girlish giggles tumbling past your lips at the slightest joke. It bordered on pathetic.

She enters your room with a chuckle, like — the type that says ‘you’re so fucking cute.’ in Ellie’s voice, if you can imagine. You’d set the movie up, the screen buzzing with static playing old timey music with the start up screen for the movie awaiting the two of you. You’d rustled together every blanket and cushion you could get your hands on to create some kind of nest for the two of you to get all cuddled up in, and even more than that if your plans went how they should. It smells like you in the room, and Ellie wants to stand there and breathe in so hard her ribs crack from the expansion just to inhale you in completely. There’s no time for that, because you’re ushering her down on the bed. It’s almost horny just from the way you push her down, both hands on the warm skin of her freckled shoulders — your smooth and grabbable thighs between her legs. “Get comfy. But not too comfy. You always fall asleep when we watch movies.”

But how could she fall asleep when you’re dressed like that? In your natural form, wearing so little and showing so much. Her palms felt like little ants were inside her skin, running around like their tiny heads were on fire — or maybe it was just the hand static from not being able to touch your electric skin, to graze her coarseness over your smoothness and hear the sizzle of you up against fingertips. She wanted to hold you by the back of the head, take all your weight, all your thoughts, all of you.

But she was here to watch a movie, like a good best friend. And if that’s what you needed that’s what she’d be.

Turns out trying to seduce someone into scratching the itch that’s been aching you for weeks was harder than expected. How were you supposed to initiate this again? Hadn’t you thought about this time and time again, written about your dream scenarios of getting down and dirty with Ellie in the middle of your diary where no one would look if they’d found it and opened it up? You’d practised this, time and time again whilst you fall asleep — or whilst you’re fucking your hand, or whilst you’re staring at her profile idly whilst she sits and draws. God, how do you make the first move?

You’re staring at her whilst this rackets your brain, and you don’t realise how shamelessly you’re gawking at her until she side-eyes you, a fond little smirk daring to grace her features — it was audacious how cute she was. “Somethin’ on your mind?”

She’s practically handing you the opportunity. Your skin burns, body pressed to hers. Her arm is wrapped around your shoulder, the two of you propped up laying back on your bed and it’s all set up perfectly. You could say a million things, you could push your weight up on your elbow and reach up and kiss the side of her rubied lips. You want to slot a hand right between your thighs there and then, relieve yourself, show her what she’s done to you. The mess she’s made out of you.

You squeak out a “Nope.” despite all of this.

You keep planning and rehearsing, not concentrating on the cat movie anymore, that’s for damn sure. Who was that old lady again? What was that cats name? Who cares. You’re staring, syncing your breath to hers. You think yourself to sleep, cheek pressed to her collar bone and soft snores. Completely unsuccessful, but there’s always next time right?

When you wake up a few hours later things feel different. You’re not touching Ellie anymore — Hell, she could be gone for all you know. But you’re feverish, throat dry and prickly. Your skin is broken out into goosebumps despite the heat, your thin tank top dress completely stuck to your skin and sheering from the pure amount of sweat drenching you. What the fuck? Were you sick? You’re panting, aching but not all over — only in your… you reach down, half awake and feel your slick coating your inner thighs, pooling your cunt. You felt feral.

Your eyes shoot open now, because — well, you can’t be doing that. Can’t be touching yourself like that with Ellie right there. The room is glowing blue, and you locate the TV screen causing it. The movie is gone, finished, and the screen is on a standby channel, quiet and staticy as it alights the bedroom. You turn to Ellie, because you need her suddenly, feeling like you’ll burst into tears or cum without touch, whichever comes first and you don’t know why. Any shyness has left you when you turn, spinning onto your hands and knees to touch her and shake her awake.

She’s laying on her front, her wifebeater having ridden up a little to display some of her back. Her arm hugs her pillow, and you don’t remember her being that sculpted — her arms, the ones that hold you when you hug and lift the heavy gates on patrol. You reach out and touch, and then grab, and then you shake her awake. “Els, Ellie please.”

It doesn’t take her much, she’s a light sleeper as mentioned before. She panics a little, flipping onto her back when she hears your trembling, whiney tone. What’s wrong? What happened? She’s reaching for you before her eyes are fully open.

“Hey, wha’samatter?” She croaks, one eye squinting shut in the bright blue glow. You go to tell her but you just whisper her name again, and again and you just need her to touch. Your hand grabs her arm again and she sits up fully, eyes widening a little as she wakes up properly. “Hey, talk t’me.”

“Look at me I’m—” You whine quietly, gesturing to your fevered appearance but you feel like you don’t have time to explain. You have no sense of patience or shame when you scooch closer, hands sliding over her shoulders so your foreheads are nearly touching. You look deranged and her cunt twitches.

“I need you Els. Somethin’ is going on with me and I just... I don’t know but I need you.” You beg. Jesus, she must be having some kind of wet dream.

“What? Uh— you — need me how?” She stutters, and she feels like a fuckin’ idiot because where was the suave flirting skills and pizazz she promised herself she’d have when the day came that you finally asked her to touch you? Let her have you? Her stomach clenches in cringe but she barely has time to overthink it because you’re moving impossibly closer. Your tits are practically spilling out and Ellie’s palms are sweating so much that it makes her insecure.

“Think somethings wrong with me, think I’m in—”

“You’re in heat.” Your words overlap and the two of you are whispering like there’s anyone else in the house that might overhear you. “Yeah, uh — shit man, I read about it in the book, you know? I didn’t know if you’d… if you’d be able to… whatever. What do you need? You need some water?” She’s rambling, needing to think carefully about her actions. She didn’t wanna take advantage of you when you were so vulnerable… was this like, weird? Not because you’re her best friend — no, this has been Ellie’s long game since you met — but because of the whole… feline thing.

“No I don’t need water Ellie, I just want you to help me. It… it aches.” You cry miserably, dropping your face into her shoulder defeatedly. She smells so good, just like her — like Ellie, but so much stronger than usual, your senses heightened by ten. It weakened you, feeling this out of control. You sniffle, rubbing your nose into her top and she rubs your drenched back — sympathetic.

“Is it because it’s like… a full moon or something?” She asks quietly and your brows furrow in annoyance, pushing yourself off her to be face to face again.

“M’not a werewolf Ellie.” You pout, and her lips twitch up into a nervous half chuckle, relaxing a little as she reaches up and smoothes her thumb between your brows. She sighs. And then laughs quietly.

“I know that.”

The two of you look at eachother for a moment, a silent conversation in the place of what should be confessing feelings. You feel like you take the first step when you glance at her lips, and she returns it by glancing at yours. The looks get more eager, and your bodies thrust closer, and you kiss.

You wished it was romantic, like you’d planned for months. But it’s needy and eager and you’re panting and whining within thirty seconds of having her tongue glide against yours. You’re lucky that Ellie is just eagerly going with it, happy to be there. You didn’t wanna make her uncomfortable or come across as forceful — but that didn’t seem to be the case at all, especially not when she let out a little groan at the feeling of of you sinking down pointed teeth into her bottom lip.

She topples back when you lean into her more and you’re clambering onto her lap, thighs shaking. You hear yourself before you realise you’re not kissing anymore, instead whispering “Please, please, please.” against her lips with your eyes screwed shut as you grind your soaked cunt onto her jean covered one. Where you’d usually make a comment about her sleeping in jeans, you pant — and she lets out an embarrassingly loud, wide eyed groan at the feeling. The zipper digs into both of your clits from either side.

“Fuck, fuck okay.” Her hands hover, and she doesn’t know where to grab first. This is happening, God this is really fucking happening. She blushes at the thought of her dorkishly pinching herself, just to check it’s not some super torturous vivid dream as her hands float before just pawing at your back, pulling you closer. Closer. Need her closer.

You shuffle back in the dark, hands fumbling for that zipper that you’d made warm and wet through your cotton underwear and tug it down so harshly you think it’s gonna come off. Buttons get unpopped, and fingers get tucked into a waistband before you’re yanking down. Ellie’s getting whiplash at the speed you’re moving, eyes flickering across your desperate and pained expression. Fat tears sit beneath your eyes as you mutter the word ‘closer’ again, an inkling of relief when you pull her jeans down to her mid thighs revealing soft black boxers.

You sit on her again, and — that’s it, that’s the friction you wanted. You can feel the raised, round mould of her pussy through the material and she gasps when you grind down onto her, forcing herself up onto her elbows, eyes rolling back a little, hands gripping your thigh creases as she stared down at your white underwear smushing itself into hers in the dim light. You’re whimpering (and so is she for a moment), hips jerking forward and Ellie genuinely doesn’t know what to do with you. It feels so fucking good, but she feels like she’s not stepping up the way she should. She wants to take control, make it all better for you like she always does.

“Fuck, okay babe. Chill, okay? Mhpm, I got you. Let me help you. S’what I’m here for right? Lay back.” She whispers, and leans forward again to ease you backwards and like she can’t help it, presses another kiss to your lips. You both freeze, because this time it has feeling behind it. That’s also what you needed, you needed her to take control. You relax for a moment, letting her roll you onto your back barely breaking apart the kiss.

When she pulls back, she strokes your hot cheek with her thumb — staring into each others eyes. Hers are still beautiful and vibrant even in the feverish blue light, glancing all across your face with concern and fondness etched into her features. “Kay?” she speaks, tapping her thumb to your cheek for a response and you nod, huffing out a breath. Okay. Try to calm down.

She kisses the corner of your mouth, which trails inevitably into the crook of your neck, her swollen lips sucking the slippery skin with a hum. Your fingers are bunched tightly into her shirt and her jeans are still below her ass from your dry humping craze. You take some deep breaths, and she hears you — outwardly appreciating your efforts to be calm. “Thats good, keep doin’ that.” She whispers when you push air out of your mouth shakily, and the praise makes your legs fall open limply.

“You gonna let me help you out, pretty girl?” She kisses the centre of your chest and you mewl, body vibrating with purs as you nod. “Tell me, please. I’ve uh, I’ve waited so long to hear it.” She sounds nervous in the sweetest way possible, making you even in your haze reach out to comfort her, pushing her auburn strands out her face as she looks up at you pleadingly.

“Please help me Ellie, want you to touch me.” Your voice is jumpy from your shudders, and it transfers to her — your eyes just catching the way she trembles a little from adrenaline in the dark.

“Alright baby, I got you.”

Hearing her call you baby like you’d always hoped she would makes you heave out a sigh, pushing your hips up into her body weight trying to relieve yourself somehow. She shushes you, distracted by the feel of you beneath her palms now as she drags them down your body. Her thumbs swipe across your hard nipples through the thin material of your pyjamas and you mewl again, arching into her hands.

“Gonna make you feel better, promise.” She whispers but it feels more like she’s talking about you and not to you so you try to keep quiet so that you can just observe. She’s sliding down the bed ‘til she’s practically half off it, pushing your dress up to press fond kisses to your tummy. It feels right, like it’s something she’s been doing for months despite it being her first time down there. It’s Ellie, your Ellie. You can’t think of anyone you’d be in better hands with.

“Never,” kiss. “Had,” kiss. “Someone down here,” kiss. “Before have you?” She drags her lips downwards this time, gripping the meat of your thighs and spreading them. You sigh out a whimper and shake your head, embarrassed by how needy you were for a flash of a second before getting lost in your lust again. She whispers out an ‘Th’sokay’ against your hipbone as she pushes your thighs open before pulling back — taking a look. Her tongue wets her lips at the sight before her, eyes adjusted into the low light now to see how you’ve completely soaked through your underwear — lips fat and wanting through the material. Ellie let’s out a breath she was unaware to be holding, forefinger stroking through your covered folds with a glance upwards to make sure it was all still okay.

“God damn.” She comments, and you know what she means — she probably didn’t know it was possible to get this wet.

“Take’m off, please.” You whimper, writhing your hips around growing impatient once more and she nods frantically, peeling the cotton down your body making you hide your face in your arm when your centre clings to the fabric.

“So ready, huh.” She whispers, hot breath fanning over your bare cunt now. She breathes out a barely audible chuckle as she strokes the side of her finger across the small curled tuft of pubic hair that sat on your skin.

“Yeah, b—been ready for you Els. Wanted this for so l—ong.” You can’t stop trembling, and perhaps it was your feverish chills or the fact you were so excited to finally have your best friend in the way you’d wanted her.

“Yeah?” She cooes, but she’s barely listening — both thumbs pushing the fat of your lips outward, spreading you for her viewing pleasure. “Been hiding all this from me? But it’s so pretty…”

You sniffle, and she takes that as her sign to dive straight in — tongue flattening against your exposed clit and flicking upwards before dragging her lips down through your quantity of arousal. You moan, barely able to hear yourself through the loud purs emitting from you and buck your hips against her face.

You knew Ellie had experience, from the gutwrenching stories she’d tell you about her escapades with her ex girlfriend Cat (Funnily enough, actually her name — a foreshadowing all things considered.) But you’d figured it was just fooling around behind the barn, or maybe when Joel wasn’t home as the two of them used to share a residence. You didn’t expect her to be so… ravenous. If you knew that the girl sat beside you for so long could eat like this, you might have felt more inclined to approach her for help a little sooner.

The room was filled with obscene sounds, the sound of Ellie’s mouth ministrations which can only be compared to noise that belonged to stirring buttery pasta — mixed with her low moans against you because apparently you tasted that good. This was also mixed with, but not overshadowed by your desperate cries and purs as you pull her head further down into your crotch, panting up against the ceiling praying for release.

You hear yourself cry for “More!” and as if the thought had already sprouted for your best friend, her middle finger immediately pressed in against your hole — applying pressure and massaging that warm spot — a challenge for it not to slip right in given how wet you were for her.

“Can give you more. Lemme in, babe.” She murmurs against you when she finally sinks it in, sucking on your clit as means to get you to loosen up around her — which in hindsight wasn’t her most clear-minded idea as you only clenched harder. Ellie, much to your dismay removes her mouth for a moment to sit up on her elbow a little higher. She blows over your clit, smacking a wet kiss to it before looking up at you seriously — finger frozen only a little way in. Her free hand comes up, wide palm stroking across your lower stomach soothingly. “Gotta relax. Don’t wanna hurt you and you’re tight, babe. Relax.”

This side of Ellie made it difficult to not challenge this by clenching even harder. You could tell there was still an element of nerves to her, not wanting to fuck it up — but it just came so naturally to her to look after you. You push a shaky breath out through your mouth in a small ‘o’ shape, eager to make her proud again like before and focus on unclenching, her thumb on the connecting hand softly stroking your clit up and down to assumably aid you in this. “Good job, that’s it.”

She smiles when she returns her mouth to your folds, absolutely ecstatic to get back in there. You would have giggled at this if you weren’t so worked up, placing all your concentration into keeping loose for her and letting her press her finger up into a delicate spot you hadn’t discovered before. You jerk, briefly clenching again as her gaze snaps up to you— free hand coming back to smooth down your hip and ass, calming you. “C’mon babe, this is gonna get y’there. Help me out here.” She whispers and you try for her again, letting her press up into that toe curling devastating place. The bed rocks with movement, the same feeling you get when you’re half awake in the back of a moving car — and you glance down to realise it’s Ellie, and she’s fucking humping the bed, grunting against your pussy with her nose smushed to your clit. You feel the tears welling, and something turning like cogs in your stomach. Your orgasm approaches, but it’s only at the precipice of your cunt— the ache reaching much deeper and you panic at the idea of being left unsatisfied despite your deep lust, Ellie’s touches only making you ache more.

“Els, Ellie w—wait I’m gonna, let — wait I can’t it’s not — s’not deep enough I need more, need more it’s too —” You’re suddenly crying out, pushing yourself up with a look of absolute devastation on your face which is so sobering that she pulls her fingers out of you completely — pushing her self up at crazy speeds to meet you half way and cup your face.

“Babe, you’re panicking. Just talk to me, tell me what you need I — I can give it to you. Breathe.” She whispers, lips brushing your own as she attempts to comfort you, swiping away the tears leaking down your cheeks still. Your lip curls over, puffing out and wobbling as you suck in a quivering breath.

“More— just need to be… fucked, need you to fuck me, need it deeper.” You wail and she shushes you again, her slender hand coming back down to just cup your cunt in a way that made you dizzy, an attempt for her to comfort you and hold you in a way that you needed. Your eyes squeeze shut and tears moisten your lashes, feeling guilty for asking for such things, unsure if she can really give it to you. You didn’t want her to feel bad.

Ellie bites her lip in thought and tastes you. She did have that one thing… though she hadn’t actually used it before. It was a harness, a thick purple dildo lodged into the centre of it — stashed in a shoebox and shoved under her bed with crimson cheeks and clammy hands. She’d found it on patrol, and figured it could be useful one day maybe — a vision of you taking her with an arched back and her hips slamming against your plush ass making her wince and cup her cunt through her jeans in that very sex store. She had something that could help, and she had to push her pride aside to offer.

“Got something I can fuck you with. It’s… literally for that purpose but uh, it’s back at my place.” When she see’s the way your eyes light up with hope she’s jumping up, yanking her jeans up back around her waist, fumbling to do up her zipper as she continues to stare at you for permission. “I can run, be back in literally five minutes — do you want it babe? I’ll be so fucking fast you won’t even know I’m gone.” She’s not sure who’s begging who anymore, because since handed the opportunity Ellie has become obsessed with the idea of finally getting to fuck you good and proper.

“Yes j—just be fast, Ellie please be fast.” You mewl weakly, dropping back against the bed. She gives you a once over as she stumbles for her shoes, pulling her Converse on at a speed you didn’t think was possible and roughly tying laces. She’s out the door before you know it, leaving you to your own devices.

It feels like hours when she’s gone and you slip further into that dream-like, hazy space you’ve been fighting since she’d laid hands on you. Without her touch, the ache began to settle deep into your centre again — skin on fire and sensitive to the touch. You felt like you were being burned from the inside out without her there, rolling around on your sheets attempting to find comfort and coming up unsuccessful. The arch in your back only opened your cunt wider to the balmy air, and your nipples grew sore quickly from rubbing up against your bedsheet. A bead of sweat rolls between your tits.

Ellie’s feet hurt from the speed her Converse would slap the concrete of Jackson’s town— sprinting her way through the 4AM streets on a mission to bring you the equipment to satisfy your urges. Her heart thunders when she reaches her place, dropping her keys and swearing to herself as she fumbled to get the door open. She doesn’t bother closing it behind her when she runs inside, wood creaking beneath her heavy steps to sliding down on her knees beside her bed, reaching her hand along the dusty floor to find that shoe box. She finds it, muttering a borderline deranged ‘There you are’ before sliding it out, popping it open just to check it’s still there before slamming the lid back on and tucking the box under her arm, heading back to you.

You know she’s back because through your daze you hear the door shut and her loud high-pitched grunt of exertion, the image of her doubling over in your hallway to catch her breath coming to you almost like a prophetic vision. The ache worsens as her footsteps draw closer, her voice strained and out of breath as she calls out to you. “I almost — Fuck, almost ran into Jesse on the way to his early patrol. Saw him and, had to take a detour behind someone’s house cos’ he would have asked what was in the box and like — I can’t just get it out and show him…” Her panted words trail off when she re enters the bedroom, eyes falling on your desperate state once more.

It was a blow to her heart, seeing you so worked up. You were completely naked now in just your collar, brow slick with sweat and body practically glowing. Your tail curls around your thigh self soothingly, ears pointed high and alert. Your back arches painfully as you drag your hands down your thighs. You sniffle, defeated.

“Can’t even touch myself n’make it better cos my claws won’t go back in.” You shake, dragging your hands down your thighs desperately. Your sharp claws catch the delicate skin leaving long thin marks but you don’t even seem to notice. Ellie’s brows furrow and she rushes to you, sitting beside you on the bed and taking your hand in hers, looking at your clawed fingertips.

“Hey, don’t… don’t do that. M’here now. Can look after you yeah? Let me just…” She struggles for the box and pulls out the clattering harness and toy. You’re distracted for a moment as you watch, intrigued by the contraption that she’s pulling up her jeans and fastening at her hips. When she’s done, a purple plastic cock stands proud in the centre of her crotch, and your mouth practically waters.

It was animalistic, truly — and a little embarrassing the way you grabbed her and pulled her onto the bed. She even had the nerve to stumble a little bit, her back bouncing against the sheets as she scrambled to get comfortable and you crawled onto her lap. You press your lips to hers again like she’s your life line, letting out a muffled moan because you missed her. She’d been gone for five minutes and you’d missed her. You knew she’d tease you for that if it were any other time, but this time was like no other. She groans against you too, her hand cupping up to cup the back of your head and hold you there. You couldn’t get enough of eachother, all this waiting was finally paying off.

Your thighs shake around her as you wrap your hand around the dildo, sitting back as you can rub it up and down your slick a few times, collecting it’s juice. Ellie sits up a little, watching with wide eyes. “Jesus. Y’look so fuckin’ pretty.”

Her words send a surge of need through you again and you push the fat tip against your hole, adjusting so you can sit straight down on it. She winces for you, hands hovering above your hips. “Careful you haven’t taken anything bigger than my fingers before it’s gonna—”

You groan, melting into her as you sink down all the way. She’s right, it does hurt — and you’re frozen, laying against her shoulder hiccuping and quietly sobbing at the stretch. It’s way too much, but — it scratches the itch. Dulls the ache inside. You could power through this.

Her voice is gentle when she speaks, hands slowly coming down on your back to rub soothing circles on your clammy skin. “Hey.” She leans back a little, tilting her head trying to get a look at you. “Look at me, baby.”

You do, because how could you not — blinking big wet, eyes at her in the dark. She wipes away some tears with her knuckle, brows frowned and concerned. “You gotta be careful. Okay? I don’t… I’m not going to hurt you. I can’t.” She admits, and it seems to carry more meaning than what she’s letting off in the moment. Your doe eyes well again, fist curling in her wifebeater and then loosening as you try and calm your jerky breaths. She slowly reaches down until the pads of her fingers meet your clit, engorged and pushed out from the way your cunt is stretched open around her. She rubs it in light circles, softly — making you preen into her touch. The pain of the stretch lessens and you can’t help but grind down.

With each grind, you become more frenzied — picking up the pace as you chase the feeling you’d been after. You’re moaning over the sound of your pussy squelching around her and all she can do is grab onto your ass and help you, eyes all over you. “Fffffuck, babe — look at you, takin’ it so well. Who taught you how to fuck like this huh? Thought I was your first?” She chuckles, breathless from your incessant bouncing and grinding.

“You are, Els — m—my first and my only, don’t wanna fuck anyone else ever again.” You whine, so loudly it can probably be heard from outside but who cares — not when she’s got you like this. This worked up and needy for her. It was something from her wildest dreams.

“Yeah? Wanna be my girl?” She grunts, your grinding aiding the harness in hitting her clit just right with each movement. With all this time spent helping you, Ellie hadn’t realised how pent up she was.

“Yes, m’your girl Ellie, m’your girl you — you own me!” You admit, and it seems things go a little quiet at the confession. You clench hard, burrowing into her shoulder as she processes the words. Ellie hears an incoherent ‘More’ again, and her body goes on autopilot — feet sliding up to press flat against the bed. She holds you still, arm across your lower back and pins you to her whilst she fucks up into you fast. She grunts at the feeling, and you cry. With each bounce she forces out of you, your bell collar jingles humiliatingly.

Ellie can’t seem to keep her hands in one place, leaving your back to feel the way your tits jump with each movement caging them under her hands. “Yeah, baby? Like that?” She cooes and feels you nod frantically into her, nothing but mewls and moans able to leave you. You’re gushing over her strap, walls spasming trying to suck her back in each time she draws back — Ellie feels like she can feel it herself.

“Y’own me. M’all yours forever Els.” You babble like you’re trying to keep yourself awake, alive, conscious whilst Ellie fucks up into you like it’s the last chance she’ll ever get.

“Yeah? This all mine, sweet girl?” She cooes, and finally you feel it — the hint of a knot in your stomach, the orgasm you’ve been chasing — one that resides deep inside you, the ache that felt like it could kill you, soon to be soothed by Ellie herself.

“Yes! Yes! Mphm, g’nna cum on your dick!”

Her dick. She’d never thought of it like that before. The words leaving your mouth sparked something in her, and suddenly she was the feral one. Her jaw clenches, strong hands pushing and tugging and rolling you onto your back. You gasp at the feeling of her cock sliding right out to the tip at the jostling, tits bouncing as you lay back on the bed. You looked vulgar and improper and so far from your innocent self, and Ellie couldn’t help but feel that maybe this was all on her. Maybe you wouldn’t have gone into heat if the sexual tension between you wasn’t so strong. What had she done to her sweet best friend?

You stare up at her with doe eyes, and she stares back for a moment — lips parted, jaw squared and eyes dark. This was the Ellie you’d needed.

Her hands slide up the backs of your thighs and push your knees up to your chest, pressing her strap deep inside of you. Her breathing is erratic, hair falling into her face as she thrusts in and out at a punishing pace, the tip of her cock nudging your cervix just right. It’s almost too much to take and you turn your head with a weak mewl, sound punched out of your lungs. She doesn’t let you, grabbing you by the jaw so that fucked out your eyes stayed on her own glossy ones.

“Yeah that’s right, look at me. Stay right here with me.”

“C—can’t.”

“You can. Be good, c’mon, j’st keep taking it, angel.” She moans and your toes curl. Needing her as close as humanely possible, your hand curled around the back of her head tugging her to your lips. You feel her arm pressed between the two of you, giving herself just enough space to toy with your clit as she groaned against your mouth.

You detached, unable to keep up with the kissing as you wrapped your arms around Ellie’s neck — and she was okay with that, focusing on her thrusting to get you where you needed. You squeeze extra hard with a pained mewl, every one of your moans met with a cooed ‘Yeah?’ or ‘That right?’ until you were actually finally cumming.

You’re not aware of yourself when you actually do, feeling like water was being thrown over the fire that was your body all whilst igniting another at the same time. The sounds coming from you were…a lot. Purs and squeals and moans and squelching, nothing left to do but to let Ellie ride it out for you, telling you how good you are for letting go. You hear her wince and it brings you back a little, realising you’d been scraping your fangs along Ellie’s bare shoulder — drawing thick beads of blood.

You pant, and she stares down at you with a clenched jaw as you calm your self, recuperating after that Earth shattering orgasm given by your best f— you couldn’t surely still be calling her that right? After all that?

Your eyes focus, puffy lips smeared slightly with the blood you’d drawn from Ellie’s skin and you heave out a whispered apology, trying to blink back your concentration which was proven difficult with her strap still seated deep inside you the way it was.

“S—orry, got carried away I didn’t mean to.”

She goes to shrug, but the air is then punched out of her lungs as you lean forward a little, looking at her with pensive, wide submissive eyes before flattening your tongue against the wound and cleaning it up. She watches, still not having said a word before she’s gently grabbing your shoulders and pushing you to lay flat again. Her hips shift, a slow experimental grind rolling out from her hips as she watches you. Your brows furrow, jaw gaping at the sensitivity as you grab at her strong arms in a slight panic. She takes your hands and pins them down in a soft and loving way.

“What’you doin’ Els?” You sigh out almost in one breath, and that’s when she leans down and presses soft kisses to your cheek once more, her hair tickling your nose, wanting you to feel the love radiating off her.

“Makin’ sure it’s all out your system. You’ll let me do that, yeah?” She mutters, still breathless and you whine in response with a vicious nod. “Good girl.”

Your thighs, which you hadn’t realised had tightened around her hips loosened and fell open, your tail pushing out from under you to absentmindedly tickle your own skin. Maybe it was for comfort, self soothing you through the pleasurable pain of your overstimulation.

Ellie picked up her pace a little, her movements different from before— long and lengthy rolls of her hips making sure to graze every wall inside of you. “How’s that? That make you feel good?” It’s an earnest and honest question, genuinely wanting to know but you tip your head back, controlling everything in you not to hurt her when you dig her claws into the fat beneath her ass now — trying to pull her deeper inside since she’d let your arms out of her pin.

“Feels so good, Ellie. Y’look after me so well.” You whimper, one hand reaching up to push her hair out of her face and she blinks at you a little off guard— preening at the praise a little. “My strong, clever Ellie. Always doin’ what’s right f’me.” You whine, and it seems the praising is turning the both of you on as her brows knit, lips parting just a little as she grinds harder in a way that rubs her good down below.

“Okay, okay fuck.” She chuckles when she catches herself, which only makes you bite your lip and spread yourself wider for her. The angle hits your gummy insides yet again in a way that you just couldn’t handle and your legs are jerking, eyes squeezing shut as you ride out another soft orgasm — letting her pleasure herself inside of you.

She keeps going, and keeps going, and keeps fucking going until you’re all fucked out — Ellie’s boxers soaked and the strap shiny all over from your releases. The sun is starting to come up through the blinds making Ellie squint tiredly when she rolls you over back on top of her, your thighs splayed either side of her body — plastic dick still burrowed inside of you.

She lets out a sigh of exertion and a gentle ‘Alright’ when she tries to carefully lift her hips, trying to get a good grip on the base of the dildo so she could pull it out of you but you whine, clenching around it selfishly as you smush your cheek against her — fucked out and senseless, already half asleep. “J’st keep it… keep it inside, please. Just for a little while.”

The sentence makes her heart tighten a little and she just nods, letting herself fall back and relax into the soft pillows more, hand opting to instead lazily trail up and down your back until the movements were halting with her journey into sleep— drifting off to the visions of your beautiful face, and the memory of your kisses against her lips.

She’ll ask you out officially tomorrow. For now, she could just enjoy the peace that you brought her.

#ellie williams au #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou2 smut #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x reader #hybridkitty!reader

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katnissandpeetamellark · 3 months

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Lucy Gray Baird - an innocent victim or a manipulator?

What's your first impression of Lucy Gray?

Do you think she loved Coriolanus in tbosas?

What do you think might have happened to Lucy Gray in the end?

What's your opinion about theories :

1. Greasy Sae as Lucy Gray.

2. Coin as a daughter or relative of Lucy Gray.

Thank you :)

@curiousnonny

OKAy, I saw people respond to this a few days ago so I wanted to wait because I didn't want the tag to be TOO filled with the same thing all at once lol

But... in my opinion (as a book reader - multiple times - before the movie came out)..

(LONG TEXT POST ANSWER BELOW!)

1.Lucy Gray is BOTH a victim of manipulation and a manipulator (in a "Survival" way). I mean to an extent she's a performer. And that makes her good at manipulating people to "feel a certain way".

To survive the games, she puts on her charm HARD (But I also think she's just a good person too. IMO there's a level of realness to her charm. She really does care about people and enjoys being around others.) I think she uses people to an extent to survive (and I DO NOT BLAME HER FOR THIS. Put yourself in her shoes in those situations and you can see how manipulating people would benefit you)

BUT she is ALSO a victim. To the "system" aka the Hunger Games/The Capitol's cruelty, and a victim of Snow. Her manipulation all stems from her being a victim in their world (Being an orphan, living in poverty, not being allowed to roam free in the world, Billy Taupe, the games, etc.). So yes, Lucy Gray is both a manipulator AND a victim (I don't like the word innocent though, it's a bit too black and white for me)

2.I think I immediately felt pity but you also see her "rebel" from the situation by signing and the way she's dressed for this moment. So you see her strength in a terrible situation. You have to admire someone who just says "fuck it" and rolls with the punches.

3.I don't know exactly. I think she could've let go of him if he hadn't "followed her" back to 12. I think again, to an extent she "uses" him to survive. And then when he's just there in 12 with her, she's like "well okay, I can make this work". I think she finds comfort in others (girl just went through hell) and there's definitely some sort of trauma bond there after the games. I don't wanna say yes or no, because again I have lots of thoughts and there all in grey areas lol.

So... maybe. But maybe not. Or maybe partially.

3.Again, I don't know. I don't mind it being a mystery because then it relates directly to the ballad. If she died or escaped to live in the wilderness... either would be better than being trapped (in 12, in Panem etc.). I'd obviously rather her be free, but I guess we'll probably never know and I've just become "at peace" with that.

I definitely DO NOT think she would go back to 12. Her life was in danger and 12 was never her home really. Let her be free<3

4.Hate both of those theories. They cheapen the story imo. Making Katniss "the chosen one" ruins the message.

Lucy Gray would not have gone back to 12 imo and she would have NEVER raised someone to be just like Coriolanus. She wasn't like him, she didn't shut out love and family and people. If Lucy Gray survived (which is totally possible) she wouldn't have raised someone to be like Coriolanus. It just doesn't make sense to me.

Thanks for the ask<3

#asks #anon #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #lucy gray baird #the hunger games #my opinion

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skyeeeesworld · 2 years

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Albedo x (ambiguous or gn) reader modern au snippet?!

I still have a little bit more written than this, but it's a small bit for you.

I started writing this in my maths class the other day <.<

but I hope it's a nice read so far! It's just kind of a description? idk what it's called, but it all wont be like this.

anyway here's the first few paragraphs!

The painting before you was breath-taking. Stood up-right was a large portrait canvas about six feet tall. Upon it was a various mix of colours made from oil paint. There was an attractive young woman in the painting with large snow-white wings folded behind here; the feathers looked like they were as soft as clouds. She was wearing a white robe that looked like soft, smooth silk. Her golden blonde hair made her look like she was floating – long and wavy and perfectly fitting her slim frame.

Her hands were cupped in front of her, cradling a glowing, golden orb of light. The woman’s gentle cerulean blue eyes were relaxed and soft as if she had created the little glowing orb.

It was hard to take your eyes off the piece as you stared in wonderment. The stunning art piece had to captivated in the spot, pondering the meaning behind this work of art. It was clear the artist had put so much heart, time and effort in this work – it was unbelievable. The canvas had hooked your attention away from your task, the reason why you entered the Art Room in the first place.

Ah, right. The Art Club application form. You almost forgot.

“Mrs Lang isn’t here if that’s who you’re looking for.” A soft, low voice sounded from behind you, making you almost jump out of your skin and spin around. You thought you were the only one in the classroom. By the looks of it, this person just came out of the supply walk-in closet.

The owner of the soft-sounding voice was a young man about your age. He had ashy light-blonde hair that fell just at his shoulders and pulled in a braided half ponytail (almost like a crown of hair). His eyes were teal and held a mix of curiosity and mischievousness.

The young man was wearing an over-sized baby yellow short sleaved t-shirt that was tucked into his dark navy trousers. Underneath his yellow shirt was a dress shirt that had grey line patterns on it to form even squares. He was also wearing round glasses that had the top part of the frame missing. And of course, around his neck was a student ID lanyard, just like yours.

A chuckle came from the handsome young man as he raised a teasing eyebrow. Only then you had realized that you were staring at him. And some part of you secretly wished to listen to that chuckle again.

---------

there it is!

again, the reader's gender, name and appearance will not be mentioned. It's up to you what the reader/character/oc/etc... the character is since I want to try and make it inclusive!

this story will be based in a modern au and the characters will be in college!

The reader/MC is an art student and majors in art

Albedo majors in science, but goes to art club!

#albedo x gn reader #albedo x reader #albedo x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact modern au

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myluciddreamer · 2 years

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Dreams of Apocalypse Madness

I’m driving on a snowy day, on my way to work. I work at an airport and despite my unease I make a stop to buy lunch. The parking lot is full of cars despite the lack of people around. The only others I see are a group dressed from head to toe in crimson gowns. They appear to be a choir. But I’ve no time for songs. I need to get to work. As I continue my drive to work a part of me knows that’s not true. I don’t really NEED to go to work. Not today. It would be more of a surprise to actually show up on a day like today.

I walk from the parking structure with a nice hot cappuccino in my hands. The snow isn’t falling as hard as I thought it would but it’s still steady. A familiar presence joins my walk in to work. I’m not surprised to see him, if anything I take a strange comfort in knowing he’s going to be in the area as well. We step onto a moving sidewalk together. He's bundled up, looking warm and toasty against the harsh snow, his jacket lined with fur but his police patch still clearly visible.

“Look at them” Josh scoffs, nodding his head in the direct of a catwalk in a building across from us. Behind the huge glass walls separating our building from the other is a long line of people heading in the opposite direction from us, “…they’re all cowards.”

“Can you really blame them?” I ask, scanning the huge crowd, “They’re terrified. Not everyone can face this kind of thing head on”. I spot several familiar faces in the long line of fleeing people: friends, enemies, old coworkers, etc. All are carrying varying sizes of luggage with them to board the last few planes out of town.

Josh finishes off his own cup of joe, tossing the paper cup into the trash, “ I’m glad I got to see you one last time”. He gave as best a smile he could but I could see the grief hidden behind it. I return the smile with my own, the same grief hidden behind mine as well. I nod in agreement. “Take care of yourself out there”.

“You too. I may not be a cop like you but I’ll make due. I always do”. I proclaim, raising my fist up for a fist bump.

He snickers at my fake confidence, “You always do”. His fist meets mine before he turns to walk down another part of the walk way to his assigned section. I toss my now empty paper cup in the trash and hurry on to my area.

I notice the two giant bronze bull statues that adorn the outside of my work building seem to be strangely lacking in any kind of layers of snow but I don’t pay it much attention as my train of thought is broken by the singer Rihanna and a group of her background dancers rushing through the lobby. They’ve been kind enough to come out here and keep those not fleeing as entertained as possible. A bit of hope in a desperate time. As I make my way along the upper floors to my destination. I hear the sound of bulls snorting and metal twisting

The building gave a sudden shake, the sound of shattering glass pierces above the noise of crumbling concrete and groaning iron. One of the bronze bulls is scrambling to its feet in the lobby a mere two floors below me as the other takes charge. The clashing of of their metal bodies screeches through the air as they collide with all the horror of two trains in a head on collision with one another. Sparks fly as they lock horns, for all their sudden sentience there was not a glimmer of care for the lives around them, their anger locking them in a tunnel vision for fury. One manages to overpower the other and heaves it through another glass wall before charging after it. I make a break for the exit, anxious to cross the remaining distance in case the bulls return.

I head down the snowy iron stair case as swiftly as I could without slipping, the warehouse I worked in just ahead. I look out at the sky as I travel down the few flights and feel my heart sink. They sky changed from the dull grey and white of the snow storm to a curious shade of pale pink. Replacing the clouds was a strange shimmer with all sorts of colors mixing about like an oils spill in the sky...madness. Waves of madness. How could something so beautiful be so menacing? Judging from the distance I knew the gas station had been swallowed up not long ago and we would be next.

Closing the door behind me I locked it every way I could, handle, sliding lock, chain, a pad lock, and even a chair shoved under the handle to boot. It was for the best... or so I told myself. Looking around the warehouse I realized I may have been the only one to show up. The others must have fled. Perhaps I would have run too if I had somewhere to go. A noise startles me out of my thoughts; a single tin can rolling on the ground. It must have fallen from one of the higher floors. Who else had come in to work today?

I climb the nearest flight of stairs, looking for the one who dropped the tin can. A swarm of emotions fill me as a man steps forward to greet me. He’s wearing his own work uniform, a blue ninja suit which covered him from head to toe, but I knew who it was immediately; my husband. We rush into each other’s arms, our lips smashing against each other’s through the cloth of his mask. He holds me close as I try to form words. There was so much I wanted to say. How did you get here? What happened to your flight out of town? Why did you come back? Before I could form a single word he held me tighter and spoke softly, his voice lulling me into a calmer state, “I couldn’t let you go through this alone. At least this way we’ll be-”

“-together”. I finished his sentence. I was certain I would end this day alone.

Screams began to fill the air. The waves of madness were upon us. The chaos forming outside the warehouse are horrifying; sobs of despair, shrieks of terror, and hysterical laughter to name a few. I watch as the shimmering wave swallowed up the building leaving us a few precious moments before it would leak in and consume us as well. He held my shoulders tightly, “Look at ME. You will be ok. I promise”. I am scared. as the shimmer pours in through every crack I can feel my overwhelming love for my husband slipping. I won’t give in. I want to feel his feeling as long as possible. I lift the bottom of his mask with both hands, cradling his face as we share one last passionate kiss before the madness enveloped us entirely. “You will be ok, I promise. I love you”.

“I love you too” I manage to whisper. I could feel the last of my love draining out of my heart like a faucet was left running. I could see the same is happening to him. I could SEE the love he held for me leaving his eyes... and I couldn’t bare it...

*SNAP*

I swore he looked grateful as I broke his neck. The madness consuming me made me twist so hard his head came clear off. Cradling his severed head in my arms I let out a wail of grief... which began to drain from me as quickly as it came... and then... nothing.

I knew the end of the world would be madness. I just didn’t think it would be so literal.

#dreams #dreams of #last night I dreamt #lucid dreamer #dreams of madness #i dreamt #my lucid dreams #dream journal

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twilit-hyrule · 3 years

Text

So I feel bad cuz I’m pretty bad at actually drawing my ideas and uploading them... I have a bunch of doodles and concepts on my ipad that I haven’t finished yet 😅. Pokemon teams, superhero AU, some angst etc. (I have a lot of notes and stuff but comparatively few drawings).

So I decided to just upload some wing designs I have for the boys since I’ve seen some Wingfic stuff going around again! (The writing in-between is just a small info dump on which birds inspired me/what I based their wings on for anyone who is curious! So feel free to skip it or guess the birds before reading (it’s always two bird species per Link btw.)).

(I’m begging, pls ignore the akward standing pose I used for all of them. And the face markings! They look weird...)

I based Sky’s wings on a golden pheasant, and a red macaw. Felt fitting to give him red wings! And I couldn’t miss up the opportunity to add some master sword coloration with the purple and blue hues.

Four is obviously based on a hummingbird (long-tailed sylph to be more specific!), but the second bird I used as inspiration was the quetzal. It added the red underside and the long green feathers that would trail after Four (they would also be a bit longer than they are here).

Both him and Sky (and the hylians in their worlds) are very colourful compared to the others, because the bright feathers wouldn’t attract danger in their eras (the monsters were sealed away (Four) or couldn’t reach them above the clouds (Sky).

Time’s wing structure is based on owls, so he is also the most silent during flight! I wanted his wings to be gold-ish in colour so I based him on a barn owl, but I also wanted something more dangerous for him (barn owls are surprisingly small). So I added some golden eagle into the mix.

(His wings are also the most plain(?) I guess, since I had trouble imagining him with something more decorative/complicated)

I’d imagine when he turns into the feirce deity the wings grow in size and turn snow-white (like a snow owl, maybe with reflective silver instead of black markings?). Maybe grow some white peacock feathers for the tail too, he can afford to be flashy XD.

Twilight has the biggest wingspan of them all. I based him on a bearded vulture (they have the 6th biggest wingspan of all birds! Well, according to one lazy google search at least...), since I thought it fitting that he is a bird with a lot of negative stigma attached (like with his wolf transformation, vultures are rarely -if ever- considered good). They also eat bones, which also matches! And yes, their eyes are red which looks pretty damn cool.

The second bird that inspired me was the turquoise browed motmot (long tail feathers), but I’m still fighting with myself about whether I should make the feathers on the outside turquoise or not... either way I really like the sunset colours :)

For Wild I chose an osprey, I wanted a bird that mostly ate fish and lived near bodies of water because of Mipha.

...admittedly that reasoning made more sense in my head.

However! I was also inspired by magpies. Wild will absolutely pick up and keep any shiny object that he finds! Hurray for scavengers!

Eagle-ish wings! I based him on the secretary bird, it seemed extra enough for him. Though I just really like the look of those birds (really pretty!). Mixed with some major mitchell’s cockatoo for the beautiful fade from pink/light red to white.

(I’d imagine he’s low-key jealous of Sky and Four because their wings are so colourful.)

Again, like with Four, I went with the obvious choice; a seagull. Though I also sprinkled in some bluejay for the beautiful feather coloration.

Wind really likes how closely his wings match those from Warrior (since he looks up to him) both their wings have a softly fading colour on the inside and feathers darkening in layers on their backs. He just thinks it’s neat.

The first bird I looked at for Legend was the southern carmine bee eater, it has a pink-ish body and a blue/green crown of feathers on it’s head. I mean, that just screamed Legend to me.

The second bird I chose was the peregrine falcon, the fastest bird in the sky! After all, Legend is the only one of the chain to always wears his pegasus boots.

One of my personal favourite wing designs! Hyrule was mostly inspired by a starling, I wanted him to appear more... magical? And the white spots remind me of stars (well, it’s a starling). The inside of his wings is very loosely based on the great grey shrike, a slightly brutal bird, which fits well with the consensus that he lives in the grittiest Hyrule.

(They impale their live prey on on thorns for anyone who is curious.)

———

If any of them look kinda strange, it’s probably because I tried to make them all look unique. With the exception of Twilight. I wanted him to look slightly similar to both Wild and Time (main reason why I am contemplating adding some blue-ish colour). Brown and yellow/gold from time, and that dark border on the edge of his primary feathers was inspired by Wild (like Twi he is also mainly brown).

I also actively avoided making their wings green because most of them already wear green tunics, and that’s just too much.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu sky #lu four #lu time #lu twilight #lu wild #lu warriors #lu wind #lu legend #lu hyrule #making the first three was fun!#everything after made me hate myself :)#they all wear grey because they got a visit from duchess rowena #she is teaching them how to behave more like civil people #and less like forest gremlins #and if you know who I’m talking about you deserve a seniors discount

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akiraink-no · 3 years

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Empires SMP-Spirts/Fae AU

Hey! So I was watching Shubble’s stream(right after her first episode and as she was playing, I got some ideas for the Empires SMP! Note: I haven’t watched everyone’s episodes on Empires, but I highly suggest that you check them all out. Pearl and Gem’s videos on Empires are some of my favorites, but I also love Shubble, Scott, fWhip, and Pixlriffs.

Initial World-building: I like to think that the Empires SMP is a story of spirits/fae/royal courts. For example some of the players would be spirits or fae creatures. (Think Scott, Shubble, Jimmy?? And maybe Pixl), and the rest would be normal, human players that are royals. (Again, fWhip, Mythical, Pearl, Katherine, Joey, Gem, etc…) I’ll start with the fae creatures first and if I’m up to it, I’ll post my ideas for the others.

Scott Smajor: Ice/Wind

So in my head, I like to think that Scott is a fae creature from the court of ice and wind. (Mostly because ice powers are cool and because he’s in a mountain). He has explicitly stated that he’s building in an elven sort of style, which can still match with him being from a fae court.

Personality:

I would like to say he’s cold, calculating, and even ruthless or cruel at times (He murdered Gem after she died, guys, come on). He sees the people around him as assets that can help him, but he doesn’t form a real connection with any of them just yet. Everything is very strict and formal around him

I like to think that because wind spirits are pretty mischievous and free spirited, he has a softer side to him as well. He likes to pull pranks, but doesn’t know when too far is too far. His pranks can border on cruel and sometimes insensitive, but it’s because wind/ice spirits are probably the most detached from the other spirits

Appearance:

As for his appearance, I’m taking his skin as part of my inspiration. I like the idea of him in whites, blues, golds, and silvers. He has a crown of diamond shards that mimic ice and is held together with silver and gold that mimic branches. His robes are mostly white(representing snow) and there would be a trim of blue for the skies above his lands. He might have either arm bands, bracelets, or rings that are made of silver or gold(representing the times when the sun or moon hits the snow).

Powers(?)

Because Scott is an ice/wind spirit, I think it would be cool if parts of him would reflect that. Maybe his skin is super pale and cold to the touch. Maybe he doesn’t wear furry coats because he doesn’t get cold.

The air around him gets colder when he’s angry or stressed, and if he gets really pissed, he could make it start to snow around him. When he’s sad, ice starts to freeze the ground under his feet or plants around him. Maybe it gets windy when he’s happy or dies down when something shocks him

I also think it’d be cool if he had like… frost walker(?) on his feet. Like the water freezes should he get too close and he doesn’t even realize it until someone points it out. It makes travel easy for him, but also an annoyance when he is doing a build or getting a bucket of water

Shubble: Nature/Decay

So Shubble’s kingdom/empire is called the Undergrowth. When I think of that, I think of mushrooms, soil, roots, and trees. It’s pretty close to what she’s planning right now. Her style of building gives me very cottage core vibes that’s very overgrown. I like to think that she’s a nature spirit because she has said that nature provides and that just seems like a very spirit thing to say.

So I know I said decay, but when it comes to decay, it has an interesting look to everyone. Sometimes it’s bleached bones and withered grass, sometimes it’s spongy soil and mushrooms. I like to think that Shubble is the kinder side to decay(That’s saved for someone else). Something that must happen for the cycle of life to continue, she isn’t ruthless or cruel, she’s just trying to help the earth along.

Personality:

Shubble would be very kind, sweet, and overall very trusting. That doesn’t mean she’s stupid or naive, it just means she’s willing to be kind to people first and give them chances to show their kindness. (I spent a long time in her chat during her streams and… yeah, wholesome energy).

She doesn’t see the people around her as assets and rather hopes to make friends rather than enemies. I won’t say she forms connections quickly(mostly because I haven’t seen her interact with others just yet). But she is very trusting. (remember fWhips potatoes and Pearl’s shovel). During her stream after her first episode aired, she talked about hoping to be friends with Katherine from House Blossom and is aiming to stay as peaceful as possible during the time of the server.

Appearance:

So I haven’t seen her skin yet(mostly because this is coming out before we see it.) But she’s using a lot of browns, yellows, greens, and reds. I would like to say that her outfit would sort of reflect that. Instead of a crown of precious gems and metals, it’s maybe a crown of twigs, branches, leaves, and maybe some smaller mushrooms. (Antlers would be cool, so… )

I don’t think a dress would work, since she does a lot of work around her base. (Her stream was having her working with trees, leaves, and mining), so I think maybe a pair of overalls (maybe a brown?), a yellow/red undershirt and maybe a dark green jacket. Her outfit would be perfect for her to get on her hands and knees and dig into the earth(Gardener! Shubble).

Powers:

I feel like because Shubble has this overall sweet and kind energy, I think mushrooms would grow from around her feet. Maybe she can sense when things are about to pass on and tries to make them as comfortable as possible. She can communicate with the earth below her(again, nature provides), and can speak with the animals to some degree

I would like to see spore blossoms react to her. Since spores are also the seeds for mushrooms, it’d just make sense in my head. Maybe she can coax plants to bloom or grow slightly faster around her if she’s happy. Maybe when she’s sad, things start to wilt or shrivel up. Her anger makes things die or age rapidly around her. Her touch can either harm or heal. Knitting the body’s wounds or it could tear into them, causing them agony.

Jimmy: Ghosts/Decay

I like to think that maybe Jimmy started out human. Or maybe he’s half human. Like one of his parents was human and the other was a fae. (It would certainly explain his skin)

Personality:

So I haven’t watched a lot of Jimmy, but I wanted to get this off my chest because it’s been in my head for a while now. I think Jimmy, like Shubble, is trusting. Not as much as Shubble, but he does aim for friendship first and then enemy second. So, maybe he’s an opportunist instead.

Another thing that he might be is petty or spiteful(see his and Sausage’s argument over a music disc). Another ruler might negotiate or bargain their way to what they want, but I think that either Jimmy is pretty young(for fae standards) or his mixed bloodline makes it hard for him to act with a clearer head. It’s pretty clear that he wants others to take him seriously, but at the same time, he can act very impulsive and rashly(See all of 3rd life).

Appearance:

It’s pretty clear that Jimmy has that green tinge to his skin. But I think he would have colours such as green(for obvious reasons), browns, and maybe some greys(for clay in the swamp). He wouldn’t have a crown, instead, he’d have a set of gills on each side of his neck. Since I like to think that he swims around in the swamp to talk to the cod in his kingdom.

For more formal events, he might have a brown cloak and pants with a rich green tunic. He doesn’t look the most royal, but maybe that’s okay because he doesn’t want to be seen as super royal to the rest of his kingdom. Maybe he feels like if he appears to be too royal, the people of his kingdom wouldn’t approach him.

Powers:

So Jimmy’s was pretty difficult. Swamps aren’t like ice and wind or nature. But he is a spirit of decay. A less kind version of decay, but not overall cruel. Maybe his decay strikes faster than Shubbles. Where she is understanding and aims to help those along, Jimmy is buried with memories, sunken bodies, and ghostly apparitions.

So maybe he can see the dead, ghosts who haven’t passed on and simply wander his empire. His eyes glow a faint green whenever he talks to them and tries to aid them to move on to the afterlife.When he’s happy, he shines in the dark backdrop of the swamp, drawing more of the dead, eager to pass on.

Maybe his anger results in ghostly wails or being dragged into the soft earth around his home. His sadness draws more of the dead to his area, even if they didn’t die there. His pain and grief is like a blackhole, pulling souls in and forcing them to stick around, stuck in his orbit. Maybe a certain few stayed because he was the first one who spoke to them, who reached out to them, who made an effort.

Pixlriffs:Time/Death

So Pixlriffs has said that he wants to watch over the others deaths with his vigil and he lives in a desert, so I thought they would work with each other. When you think of time, you think of hourglasses, they have sand so that’s the connection I made.

Personality:

So Pix has shown an unhinged side to his overall calm and collected composure.(Example, Episode Ten, I think?) His: I sent five people to their deaths and they granted me wings(paraphrased) line is both chilling and is also perfect for a spirit of time/death.

He, like Scott, is a bit disconnected from the others. Not by accident or nature, but by choice. As a spirit of time and death, he sees the clocks above everyone’s heads, knowing when their last breaths will be taken and when those clocks finally stop.

It’s not that he’s apathetic to his fellow kings and queens, but rather he is scared. He doesn’t want to form connections only to see them disappear like a drop of sand in a desert. He wishes to honour the people who have weaseled their way into his heart. So he keeps the vigil to count their deaths and remind them that they will not be forgotten. Pixl is a watcher, an overseer that is afraid of the day his friends will pass on and leave him alone.

Appearance:

The man calls himself the copper king, so I have to have those shades of copper in his outfits somewhere. Teal, brown(for bronze), and those shades between (for copper)are very good(both in builds and on clothes). I also think that pale yellow(representing the sand) is also a nice touch and green for his lush gardens is also a wonderful tone.

He has a cape that is mostly teal(I’m thinking the shift between the third to final stage) with a bronze belt. The pale yellow would be his shirt and his pants would be a darker brown. Matching his boots.

I think he would have a crown with pale yellow crystals(yellow zircon or topaz) with bronze wires making up the rest of the crown. Maybe there are pieces of turquoise or aquamarine, that would be cool too.

Powers:

The man is basically a watcher. He has wings and can see through time. Like I said before, he can see the clocks ticking above the other players’ heads. Seeing how long they have until their last breath. Pixl is equal parts chaotic and calm. So I think he has a good control over his emotions.

When he’s stressed things start to wilt under his feet(another reason he lives in a desert), in his anger, he can cause death. Maybe he’s just an omen or something that draws in death. (See his end raiding attempts one and two). I like to think that maybe he has the ability to hold flames or make small ones(just for his candles), he isn’t violent or uses them to hurt others. He simply just uses them to light his candles.

He’s more than capable with his other abilities.

This is all I have for now. If I decide to do the others, I’ll add a link to this post. I’d appreciate some information or ideas for the other players since I haven’t had the chance to touch down on all of them. If you have any ideas, feel free to send them to me too!

#empires smp #scott smajor #shubbleyt #solidaritygaming #pixlriffs #minecraft

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butterflies-dragons · 3 years

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Do you have any doubts that Sansa is the girl in grey? Is there strong grey imagery around Sansa?

I believe Sansa is the grey girl yes, but only GRRM has that answer.

About grey imagery around Sansa, I wrote about it here and there.

Grey is the main Stark color. Their sigil is a grey direwolf in a white field. Stark men wear grey cloaks, Winterfell is made of grey granite, Grey eyes is a Stark feature, etc.

There are some instances where Sansa actually wears or it is said that she will wear a grey cloak:

1.- Her first encounter with Dontos (false Florian) in the Red Keep's Godswood: "Sansa threw a plain grey cloak over her shoulders and picked up the knife she used to cut her meat. If it is some trap, better that I die than let them hurt me more, she told herself. She hid the blade under her cloak."

It is very curious that Dontos was also wearing grey during that first secret encounter: "He wore a dark grey robe with the cowl pulled forward, but when a thin sliver of moonlight touched his cheek, she knew him at once by the blotchy skin and web of broken veins beneath. "Ser Dontos," she breathed, heartbroken. "Was it you?"

2.- Cersei gave her a white and silver maiden cloak for her wedding to Tyrion. Stark colors are grey and white tho... I think in this case the silver is there instead of the grey of House Stark. I'm not sure if this is a mistake or not. "Cersei Lannister ignored the question. "The cloak," she commanded, and the women brought it out: a long cloak of white velvet heavy with pearls. A fierce direwolf was embroidered upon it in silver thread. Sansa looked at it with sudden dread. "Your father's colors," said Cersei, as they fastened it about her neck with a slender silver chain."

Curiously enough, Tyrion wore Targaryen colors to marry Sansa lol

3.- Littlefinger planned for Alayne to reveal her true identity as Sansa Stark wearing a maiden cloak with the Stark colors grey and white: "Jon Arryn's bannermen will never love me, nor our silly, shaking Robert, but they will love their Young Falcon . . . and when they come together for his wedding, and you come out with your long auburn hair, clad in a maiden's cloak of white and grey with a direwolf emblazoned on the back . . . why, every knight in the Vale will pledge his sword to win you back your birthright.

From my answer about certain ship foreshadowing:

What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?

In the shadow of the Wall, the direwolf brushed up against his fingers. For half a heartbeat the night came alive with a thousand smells, and Jon Snow heard the crackle of the crust breaking on a patch of old snow. Someone was behind him, he realized suddenly. Someone who smelled warm as a summer day. When he turned he saw Ygritte. She stood beneath the scorched stones of the Lord Commander’s Tower, cloaked in darkness and in memory. The light of the moon was in her hair, her red hair kissed by fire. When he saw that, Jon’s heart leapt into his mouth. “Ygritte,” he said. “Lord Snow.” The voice was Melisandre’s. Surprise made him recoil from her. “Lady Melisandre.” He took a step backwards. “I mistook you for someone else.” At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red. He did not understand how he could have taken her for Ygritte. She was taller, thinner, older, though the moonlight washed years from her face. Mist rose from her nostrils, and from pale hands naked to the night. “You will freeze your fingers off,” Jon warned. “If that is the will of R’hllor. Night’s powers cannot touch one whose heart is bathed in god’s holy fire.” “You heart does not concern me. Just your hands.” “The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you.” “I have no sister.” The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? Melisandre seemed amused. “What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?” “Arya.” His voice was hoarse. “My half-sister, truly …” “… for you are bastard born. I had not forgotten. I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will.”

—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VI

Earlier in this chapter, Jon was thinking about Arya and her situation (trapped with the Boltons), and he was frustrated for not being able to help her. Then he remembered Ygritte, he confused Melisandre for Ygritte.

So, reading all the context:

What do you know of my heart, priestess? = This is about Ygritte. He is still hurt and mourning for her.

What do you know of my sister? = This is about Arya and her situation.

This is an excellent example of how GRRM plays with our minds with his tricky words:

“At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red”. He is introducing us to the Grey Girl and her true identity.

Jon thinks he is seeing Ygritte but he was actually seeing Melissandre.

Melisandre and Jon also believe this grey girl of the visions is Arya Stark, but the person trapped with the Boltons is Jeyne Poole. And later, Alys Karstark was not even wearing a “grey” cloak.

For me the grey girl is neither of them. The answer is hidden in this line: “At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red”.

***

"At night all robes are grey" means all the confusion about the grey girl's true identity: Arya or Jeyne or Alys Karstark.

"Yet suddenly hers were red" means that the girl with the grey cloak will be a redhead, like Ygritte and Melisandre the two women Jon was confusing.

So, Sansa as the grey girl makes a lot of sense, she is a redhead and she is a Stark, and grey is the main Stark color.

And this is not the first time that Jon confused Ygritte with another female. Jon dreamed of a ghastly grey direwolf wandering around the Crypts of Winterfell, that seems to be Lady’s Shade:

The crypts were growing darker. A light has gone out somewhere. “Ygritte?” he whispered. “Forgive me. Please.” But it was only a direwolf, grey and ghastly, spotted with blood, his her golden eyes shining sadly through the dark . .

—A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII

Despite Jon assuming the direwolf was a "he," I strongly suspect it was Lady's Shade. Lady is buried at Winterfell, not Grey Wind. Lady was beheaded with Ice, so her fur would be spotted with blood. And Lady was said to have sad eyes.

So, Jon is always confusing Ygritte with another redheads...

From my Dunk & Jon meta:

Maybe I’m seeing too much here, but the reference to Alysanne Osgrey [Os-Grey] makes me think of Sansa Stark, because:

Sansa shared a lot of parallels with Good Queen Alysanne.

The surname Osgrey has the word grey in it.

Alysanne Osgrey became a Silent Sister.

Silent Sisters always wear grey.

Silent Sisters are known as the Stranger’s wives.

According to Melissandre, the Grey Girl of her visions is Jon Snow’s Sister.

The Grey Girl will probably be Sansa Stark.

Grey is also the color of House Stark, so Sansa is, in a way, a Grey Girl.

Jon is a man that will defeat death and come back to life, like the Stranger that walks between the two worlds.

The Stranger’s face is half animal, like Jon who is a warg, half man and half beast.

From my Jon/Sansa/Winterfell meta:

The stone is strong = The walls of Winterfell = Alayne Stone = Sansa Stark.

Sansa Stark has a lot of stone imagery around her.

Winterfell’s walls are made of grey granite. Grey is also a color of House Stark and I believe that Sansa will be the girl in grey on a dying horse from Melisandre’s vision.

As the Heir to Winterfell, Sansa was practically transformed into a stone castle, Winterfell, and the north itself, since the one that controlled her would obtain all her lands and power. Or, to use the euphemism from the Books, Sansa Stark was the “key to the north.”

Sansa reflects about this objectification in the Books and gives us one of the saddest lines in ASOIAF, especially coming from a girl who yearns to be loved and always dreamed of getting married: “No one will ever marry me for love,” (because everyone only wants her for her claim to Winterfell and the north).

Tyrion associates Sansa’s rejection of his advances as icy courtesy and compared that rejection with a castle wall that he never got to break:

“You hide behind courtesy as if it were a castle wall.” “Courtesy is a lady’s armor,” Sansa said. Her septa had always told her that.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III

Sansa’s misery was deepening every day. Tyrion would gladly have broken through her courtesy to give her what solace he might, but it was no good.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IV

He wanted to reach her, to break through the armor of her courtesy.

—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion VIII

The castle wall that armored Sansa and Tyrion never got to break is a clear reference to Winterfell:

He remembered Winterfell as he had last seen it. Not as grotesquely huge as Harrenhal, nor as solid and impregnable to look at as Storm’s End, yet there had been a great strength in those stones, a sense that within those walls a man might feel safe.

—A Clash of Kings - Tyrion XI

And certainly, Sansa feels stronger and protected within the walls of Winterfell:

Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. “That was unchivalrously done, my lady.” “As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home.” She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.

—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

Sansa feeling stronger within the walls of Winterfell, sounds pretty similar to “the stone is strong” line from Bran quote cited above.

Later, while descending from the Eyrie to the Gates of the Moon, Mya Stone tells Sansa that “a stone is a mountain’s daughter.”

Men come and go. They lie, or die, or leave you. A mountain is not a man, though, and a stone is a mountain’s daughter. I trust my father, and I trust my mules. I won’t fall.” She put her hand on a jagged spur of rock, and got to her feet. “Best finish. We have a long way yet to go, and I can smell a storm.”

—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

One of Winterfell’s possible meanings is “wintry mountain(s).” And Sansa Stark is “The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter”.

As the daughter of Petyr Baelish, Alayne Stone also becomes the Heir to Harrenhal, another great castle made of strong stone. Only dragon fire was able to melt Harrenhal’s stone walls:

Stone does not burn, Harren had boasted, but his castle was not made of stone alone. […] And even stone will crack and melt if a fire is hot enough. The riverlords outside the castle walls said later that the towers of Harrenhal glowed red against the night, like five great candles… and like candles, they began to twist and melt, as runnels of molten stone ran down their sides.

—The World of Ice and Fire - The Reign of the Dragons: The Conquest

Moreover we have the parallels that Sansa shares with Jenny of Oldstones. And Oldstones serves us as an example of the strength of the stone.

Just like Winterfell was the stronghold of the ancient Kings of Winter, Oldstones was the stronghold of the ancient River Kings (House Mudd of Oldstones), both dynasties descendants of the First Men. And if we read about Oldstones, thinking about Winterfell is an inevitability:

They reached Oldstones after eight more days of steady rain, and made their camp upon the hill overlooking the Blue Fork, within a ruined stronghold of the ancient river kings. Its foundations remained amongst the weeds to show where the walls and keeps had stood, but the local smallfolk had long ago made off with most of the stones to raise their barns and septs and holdfasts. Yet in the center of what once would have been the castle’s yard, a great carved sepulcher still rested, half hidden in waist-high brown grass amongst a stand of ash. The lid of the sepulcher had been carved into a likeness of the man whose bones lay beneath, but the rain and the wind had done their work. The king had worn a beard, they could see, but otherwise his face was smooth and featureless, with only vague suggestions of a mouth, a nose, eyes, and the crown about the temples. His hands folded over the shaft of a stone warhammer that lay upon his chest. Once the warhammer would have been carved with runes that told its name and history, but all that the centuries had worn away. The stone itself was cracked and crumbling at the corners, discolored here and there by spreading white splotches of lichen, while wild roses crept up over the king’s feet almost to his chest.

—A Storm of Swords - Catelyn V

Despite the pass of time the foundations of Oldstones remained and the stones were even used by the smallfolk to rise new buildings. The stone is really strong.

What also remained despite the centuries was the tomb of King Tristifer IV Mudd, also known as the Hammer of Justice, which immediately reminds me of the crypts of Winterfell and its stone kings sitting on their thrones with their swords across their laps.

And just like songs are still sung about a girl named Jenny from Oldstones who found true love with a Targaryen prince, I’m pretty sure that many songs will be sung about Sansa Stark from Winterfell and her own Targaryen prince.

Finally, is worth mentioning that Stark means “strong” in German. And there’s a theory about House Strong (extinguished) being linked to House Stark.

Stone = Strong = Stark

So by saying the stone is strong, we are also saying the stone is Stark.

Alayne Stone is Sansa Stark.

***

There you have it.

Thanks for your message ♡

#sansa stark #jonsa #anon asks

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gentil-minou · 2 years

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2021 Creator Self-Love Extravaganza!

Tagged by @randowwriter (This is actually really sweet and exactly what I needed so thank you for tagging me <3)

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2021. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love! <3

This is actually kinda hard cause I only wrote 7 fics (or started anyways) but I am kinda excited to go through them. I only started writing again back in November and when I think about the progress I made in just two months, I'm filled with all sorts of joy and excitement

Batter Up, Buttercup - PRPR post Glaciator 2, WIP

I still can't believe this fic gave me the courage to write and share my insane ideas. I started with a few scenes that I just couldn't get out of my head so I tapped into my notes app and then it grew from there. I'm so excited to continue this fic because I get to play with some of my fave tropes and explore things I've always wanted to read about, and yeah, I'm super excited.

Soft Like Sunshine - Anxious Marinette fic, during Ephemeral (WIP)

Literally a labor of love that causes me great pain yet tremendous joy when writing. I will put it down for weeks and think of it as trash but at the same time, it feels the most me, you know? I genuinely think I out part of myself into this fic and it helped me explore my own anxieties. I'm still kind of bummed about how it hasn't done as well as my other fics, but I think I'm reaching a point where if it doesn't that's okay. It's a hard fic to read, almost as hard as it was to write, but I'm glad I got to explore a different writing style about a topic I love. I'm on the home stretch now, getting the climax done and I'm excited to share it with everyone! The comments I have gotten tell me a few people resonate with it, and that's all I wanted.

Fool Me Twice, Shame on YOU - Ephemeral Reveal (Oneshot)

Another Epheral fic! I gotta thank the anon who suggested Chat thinking it was all an elaborate plot by Mothman. I still can't believe I wrote it all in one sitting, but it was so much fun to write! I was smiling the whole time! I still reread it sometimes and laugh at what I wrote, it was just so fun! It was also the fic that made me realize I'm supposed to like reading what I write. So yeah, an extra special place in my heart.

Sentiadrien Theory as a Narrative for Trauma Healing - Meta

Am I including a meta? Yes, yes I am. I'm so incredibly proud of this meta. For one, it was the first time I had been able to discuss my ideas of psychology in ML. For another, it actually helped people!!!!! I still can't believe I was able to provide comfort to folks who struggled with this theory, and for that I'm so incredibly excited and grateful, especially to the folks at the gamma squad because I wrote it out for them first and they all showered me with praise. I'm glad I was able to provide some comfort for people, it's all I ever want to do.

Blanc Out - WIP, not published

For the last one, I bring up an idea I've been thinking about since the summer. It's a Chat Blanc AU. As Adrien finds himself getting closer and more in love with Marinette, he finds himself getting grey hair too. He starts to lose time, periods where he blacks out and all the while his hair begins to turn snow white as he deals with his confusing feelings for Marinette. Meanwhile, Marinette gets a nightly visitor, in the form of her chaton....but something is different about him...

I'm sooooooo excited about this fic. I'd been thinking about it for AGES and now I'm actually in the planning stages. It's a long long way away from getting posted, but this is partially the reason why I've been practicing and trying new styles. I want to improve to a place where that fic is something I can be excited to share. I also get to write about my favorite concept in ML and it's just ahhhhhh I can't wait!

Again, thanks for the tag!!!

Tagging: @sketchy-panda @thesquipproject @sparklylovegiver @coccinelle-et-chaton @dandelionrumpancake @ladyofthenoodle @karkalicious769 @alexseanchai @galahadwilder @cardcq @inimoo

and honestly, anyone else who is looking for some positivity (I consider your original works part of this ;) )!!!! This gave me loads and now I'm gonna go and write more of SLS :)

#dsfdlkfdhsjf idk if the tags are working we will see #this was fun thank you <3 #bushy writing #tag game #miraculous ladybug #ml s4

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

Text

OC Questionnaire

Thank you @1000generations and @rosella-writes for the tags! I love things such as this that allow me to flesh out Fane more! :D

I’ll tag: @oxygenforthewicked @the-dreadful-canine @varric-tethras-editor @noire-pandora @blueheaded and anyone else that’d like to give it a go! :3

----

THE BASICS:

Character’s name: Fane Lavellan/Aterian (The second name is one he’s rarely called until later on. Mainly post-Trespasser by those in his contingent of agents.)

Role in story: The Inquisitor (highly derogatory)

Physical description: Short, messy snow white hair and eyes that hold two colors instead of one (emerald and gold). Bears the vallaslin of Sylaise (full-face). Relatively angular face and holds features that are more indicative to ancient elves than the ones of today. Overall height is 6′1 and is far more muscular in build than other elves, but still slender enough that he isn’t mistaken for a Qunari. Entire body is littered with patch-work scars and has a singular, long scar upon his left cheek (inflicted by Solas)

Age: Appears 24 (approximately 5,000 years old in actuality)

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type: INTP-T (Logician). Fane is very much like me in the fact that he’s extremely analytical. He’s always questioning and trying to piece together ‘why’ or ‘how’. Sadly, social skills are lacking for him, and he comes across as proud or insensitive due to how he words things or his lack of understanding when it regards to why someone might be put off by his views.

INTERNAL LIFE:

What is their greatest fear?

To be forgotten/Himself

Inner motivation:

Rebirth. Fane wants to see the world restored to what he remembers (i.e. before the Veil was erected), and he wishes for his kin to thrive once more, to belong to no master but themselves. The birth of Yune (the last of Fane’s specific kin) awakens the ideal of ‘hope’ in his heart and allows him to believe that what he strives for is possible.

Kryptonite:

Pride and Wrath. Fane has a volatile temper that tends to get him into trouble, on and off the battlefield. He is prone to bouts of proud behavior due to the fact that he’s lived for so long and believes he knows what the ‘absolute’ in the world is.

What is their misbelief about the world?

That everything terrible that has happened to him or that he has done thus far since awakening/being awakened is his fault, his choice. At the beginning of my story and in regards to the world as a whole, Fane believes he knows exactly how each person is (personality, motivations, ideals, etc.), even though he has no idea who he is.

Lesson they need to learn:

That his existence is not a sin. That whoever or whatever he is doesn’t matter. He’s alive and he is loved, he is important. Labels do not need to define him.

What is the best thing in their life?

Family (Solas, Mhairi, Cyfrin, Yune, etc.)

What is the worst thing in their life?

That he had to betray family to support family. Fane will do whatever it takes to ensure Solas is never alone again and that his kin can be remembered for what they truly are, but in order to do that he has to make decisions, choices and those decisions carry a lot of pain and heart break. He’ll endure, however. He’ll always endure.

What do they most often look down on people for?

Ignorance and faith. The faith aspect is mainly people wholly relying on that which they can’t see rather than the strength and independent thought that they possess. Fane despises those who use faith as a tool to manipulate or those who are willfully blind to the cries of the world and the suffering.

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive?

Primarily, Solas awakens the hidden or muted sides of Fane. Solas represents ‘the sky’ to him, and just a glimpses into the other’s eyes can make Fane feel as if he’s able to fly again. Having someone understand and know him for more than his rage and bluntness also makes Fane feel more alive when he’s used to feeling grey.

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way?

Intimacy of presence. Fane feels most loved when those he cares for is content to merely be around him, words or no words. Solas is the one that does this the most often, the two of them having had to use this level of communication in the past due to Fane being a dragon unable to talk or link up mentally with anyone other than spirits. However, Cole, Mhairi and Cyfrin also utilize this means of communication. Solas is merely the one that offers it the most.

Top three things they value most in life?

Devotion, Independent thought, and Support.

EXTERNAL LIFE:

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why?

A crimson sash adorned with golden embroidery of halla and leafless trees. It was a gift from Mhairi, and it was given to Fane shortly after their father disappeared and the experiments upon his body ceased. Fane wears it either around his waist or as a scarf. He’s usually not one to accept gifts, family or not, but he kept this one because it offered a lot of comfort where it had been lacking for several years. Fane also adores his sister with all his heart, and to see that she chanced potential capture to gather the materials...how could he spit in the face of such love? He couldn’t, and that’s why he keeps it even Post-Trespasser. He rarely wears it as he used to during that time, but he keeps it safe and pulls it out when he’s alone to remember simpler days.

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom.

Fane gravitates towards clothing that’s loose and practical. He refuses to wear any of the clothing that Josephine or Vivienne might choose for him. To start, Fane wraps his entire upper body in Elvhen wraps to cover the myriad of scars that litter his body. The wraps are usually dark brown, dark green, or black. Next, he opts for cotton tunics, short sleeved or long sleeves, but he’ll have tendency to roll them up to his elbow, and once again, they are either dark or neutral colors (black, grey, etc.). Plain trousers, somewhat form fitting, and most importantly; boots. Fane does not go barefoot unless he’s getting ready for bed or bathing. He also wears a small dagger that he keeps strapped to an upper thigh. Just in case. *winks*

What names or nicknames has they been called throughout their life?

Fae (generally by Cyfrin or Mhairi), ma’isenatha (’my dragon’ and is typically used by Solas), Blackened One (this is the translation of Fane’s ‘second’ name and is used both respectfully/derogatory), He Who Flew Above (used by the Elvhen agents in both Fane and Solas’ respective contingents), White One (Abelas generally refers to Fane as this once he drops the Inquisitor title, Wisdom also calls Fane this), vhenan or ma vhenan.

And last, but definitely not least, ‘Papae’ *whistles innocently* :3

What is their method of manipulation?

Fane has draconic abilities that can warp emotions. In a way, he implements a form of psychological warfare, but he only uses it as a last resort whether the enemy is a piece of absolute trash or not. Fane has had his mind broken multiple times, died from it once even, and unless given no other choice, he will not break another like that.

Describe their daily routine.

Fane wakes up at the crack of dawn. He doesn’t like to, but he usually has no control over it due to years upon years of waking up from nightmares and retching. If he manages to awaken without many issues, Fane strides right into his routine of training, with or without eating. Training helps quell his mind of lingering terrors, and establishes discipline to emotions that are volatile. Afterwards, Fane may eat on his own, but generally, Mhairi, Cyfrin or Solas have to acquire something for him and press him to eat. He always relents, even if he glowers and growls. Cole takes a more subtle approach and just leaves it where Fane can easily smell it, awakening the want.

Mid-day Fane is usually doing his rounds, checking on companions, maybe entertaining a conversation or request, or begrudgingly diving into Inquisition business. (paperwork, letters, etc.) If he’s having a rough day, headaches, mental exhaustion, or physical pain, then Fane is less likely to get much done and that’s because Solas will demand that he take it easy. In those cases, Fane will fight and protest and declare that he’s fine, but a single look that says, ‘Enough’, and he crumbles, taking the offering of a pillowed lap and potentially sleeping for at least half the afternoon. When he wakes up, Fane lingers in the rotunda and with attempt some form of work until evening.

That’s when Fane indulges in more personal pursuits. He whittles wood, reads and writes poetry, tinkers with one of his gauntlets or plating, and lets himself want. He’ll sometimes go to the tavern to see Varric or the Chargers, even if being around Bull makes him a tad uneasy. Or he’ll seek out his sister and see if she wishes to do something with him. Fane doesn’t ask, of course, but that’s because Mhairi bombards him the moment he appears and he accepts and agrees without fuss. Sometimes Fane will visit Leliana in the rookery and go over what she’s heard or what he’s hear, or he’ll spend time with Cole until Solas comes to see where he’s gone off to.

Their go-to cure for a bad day?

Usually, training or just outright destroying something. Fane has issues controlling some of his emotions, rage most of all, and the only way to get that specific emotion out is to physically take it out. Solas and Mhairi have attempted to help Fane diffuse in different ways, but the only one that seems to work the best is for a dragon to rampage. Thankfully, Fane retreats from Skyhold if that he feels his mind blackening. Solas or Cole will follow and keep an eye on him from a distance, but Solas will intervene if he feels Fane is close to spiraling beyond anger. Then, the go-to is words, soft, but firm.

GOALS:

How are they dissatisfied with their life?

Fane’s life Pre-Inquisition and within Inquisition is...rough. Life with the clan was torture for him, literally being called a mistake and monster due to how he acted and how he looked. No one understood why and neither did Fane beyond knowing his father’s abuse had...awoken something in him. That lack of understanding infuriated Fane, to the point where he chose to just...ignore it, turn his back. Add that to the burden placed upon his shoulders unwillingly, and once again being labeled as every manner of being except what would make him feel complete...yeah, Fane was highly dissatisfied with his life. It isn’t until he and Solas reconcile and vow to never be apart again that Fane starts to find purpose and the will to try in his life. That satisfaction only grows Pre-Trespasser once Fane uncovers a lot of answers concerning himself and his kin after going on a little field trip to a place that shall not be name while Solas attends to the Qunari.

What would bring them true happiness or contentment?

Simply put? Fane wants Solas to be able to rest. That would bring Fane so much joy, to see his sky finally throw down the mantle and rest. All he wants is for them both to be able to be together and not have the world demanding their lives on a silver platter every second of every hour.

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality?

Support. That is one of Fane’s guiding principles when it comes to Solas and what the mage has deemed he has to do. Fane helps to keep Solas on the path, but he knows when to step in if the fog rolls in. Fane doesn’t see right or wrong; he sees paths, choices. He supports what Solas wishes to do because he understands why the man feels the way that he does. Fane is Devotion and Tenacity, and he will die again and again and again before leaving Solas to walk this dark path alone, without support. Because that, all on its own, can change a person’s mind.

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already?

Fane is only fearful that his support could be causing Solas grief, making him upset due to the fact that the mage feels as if Fane should condemn him. However, Fane presses on and doesn’t let fear shackle him in this. Fear is potent in Fane, that’s the truth, but it all washes away when Solas requires him. Devotion is stronger than Fear, Tenacity grinds Terror into dust, and a dragon will always guard the sky it calls home.

How do they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of?

So, Fane’s main fears are being forgotten and himself. The supporting aspect is to combat the being forgotten aspect, partially, but when in regards to himself... That’s a whole other story. Fane grapples with madness coutnless times in my story and the allure of power, something dragons cannot yearn for lest they cause irreversible harm to the world, and he is fearful that eventually...the clock will strike, the hourglass will run out and that he didn’t do enough. For Solas, for his kin, and for the world. Furthermore, Fane is terrified that that madness will eventually harm those he cares for, those he’s vowed to protect and support. So, Fane does whatever he can to keep his spirit from warping, to keep himself from breaking beyond what can be repaired, and having Yune and Solas, and seeing the progress of their endeavors helps keep Fane on the cliff he teeters on.

#tagged #oc: fane lavellan #my son is ball of devotion~#and loyalty~#some may call him a simp but that's not the truth as to why he does what he does for solas #it's a SECRET! >:D #oc questionnaire #dragon age #we reject canon and support the wolf because sometimes support helps a person realize what's TRULY important :3

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ladyofasoiaf · 3 years

Text

Jon ‘One Eye’ & Sansa Stark

In this meta I will try to point out the clues of Jon’s death- warging into his direwolf- coming back to life process.

Our main hint is going to be : ONE EYE motifs...

And interestingly this hint is always close to Sansa...

[Most of these clues etc have been already examined by many people but I will try to put them all in order to show the pattern..]

A GAME OF THRONES:

Waymar Royce

Waymar Royce appearence and story are very similar with Jon’s.

They look similar:

Ser Waymar Royce was the youngest son of an ancient house with too many heirs. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife.

[AGOT; Prologue]

Jon’s eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast.

[AGOT; Bran I]

They are both young men of Night’s Watch but they were not very welcomed by their other black brothers:

His cloak was his crowning glory; sable, thick and black and soft as sin. “Bet he killed them all himself, he did,” Gared told the barracks over wine, “twisted their little heads off, our mighty warrior.” They had all shared the laugh. It is hard to take orders from a man you laughed at in your cups, Will reflected as he sat shivering atop his garron. Gared must have felt the same.

[AGOT; Prologue]

“Yes, life,” Noye said. “A long life or a short one, it’s up to you, Snow. The road you’re walking, one of your brothers will slit your throat for you one night.” “They’re not my brothers,” Jon snapped. “They hate me because I’m better than they are.” “No. They hate you because you act like you’re better than they are. They look at you and see a castle-bred bastard who thinks he’s a lordling.” The armorer leaned close. “You’re no lordling. Remember that. You’re a Snow, not a Stark. You’re a bastard and a bully.”

[AGOT; Jon III]

Others are a very important part of Jon’s arc and story and Waymar meets with them in Prologue:

Ser Waymar met him bravely. “Dance with me then.” He lifted his sword high over his head, defiant. His hands trembled from the weight of it, or perhaps from the cold. Yet in that moment, Will thought, he was a boy no longer, but a man of the Night’s Watch.

[AGOT; Prologue]

This phrase also reminds us Jon:

It is more than impatience, Jon realized. They are afraid. Warriors, spearwives, raiders, they are frightened of those woods, of shadows moving through the trees. They want to put the Wall between them before the night descends.

A snowflake danced upon the air. Then another. Dance with me, Jon Snow, he thought. You’ll dance with me anon.

[ADWD; Jon XII]

In Prologue, Waymar gets killed by Others:

Royce’s body lay facedown in the snow, one arm out-flung. The thick sable cloak had been slashed in a dozen places. Lying dead like that, you saw how young he was. A boy.

[AGOT; Prologue]

And Jon dies in ADWD:

Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger’s hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. “Ghost,” he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold …

[ADWD; Jon XIII]

But Waymar comes back to life as a wight with ‘ONE EYE’:

Will rose. Ser Waymar Royce stood over him. His fine clothes were a tatter, his face a ruin. A shard from his sword transfixed the blind white pupil of his left eye. The right eye was open. The pupil burned blue. It saw.

[AGOT; Prologue]

So: A young man of Night’s Watch who looks like Jon dies and comes back to life with ONE EYE.

Let’s continue with the second book...

A CLASH OF KINGS:

Orell

Orell is Wildling who is also a skinchanger. His animal is an EAGLE.

Jon kills Orell in ACOK; Jon VI:

Jon nodded toward the one by the fire. It felt queer, picking a man to kill.

[...]

Jon’s man leapt to his feet, thrusting at his face with a burning brand. He could feel the heat of the flames as he flinched back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sleeper stirring, and knew he must finish his man quick. When the brand swung again, he bulled into it, swinging the bastard sword with both hands. The Valyrian steel sheared through leather, fur, wool, and flesh, but when the wildling fell he twisted, ripping the sword from Jon’s grasp.

[...]

“You ought to burn them you killed,” said Ygritte.

[ACOK; Jon VI]

But due to the magic of skinchanging, a portion of Orell’s consciousness remained in the eagle, which developed a fierce hatred for Jon.

And in ACOK; Jon VII he dreams of an eagle attacking him and people talk about vargs and skinchangers:

Then a sudden gust of cold made his fur stand up, and the air thrilled to the sound of wings. As he lifted his eyes to the ice-white mountain heights above, a shadow plummeted out of the sky. A shrill scream split the air. He glimpsed blue-grey pinions spread wide, shutting out the sun… “Ghost!” Jon shouted, sitting up. He could still feel the talons, the pain. “Ghost, to me!” Ebben appeared, grabbed him, shook him. “Quiet! You mean to bring the wildlings down on us? What’s wrong with you, boy?” “A dream,” said Jon feebly. “I was Ghost, I was on the edge of the mountain looking down on a frozen river, and something attacked me. A bird… an eagle, I think…”

[...]

“Skinchanger?” said Ebben grimly, looking at the Halfhand. Does he mean the eagle? Jon wondered. Or me? Skinchangers and wargs belonged in Old Nan’s stories, not in the world he had lived in all his life. Yet here, in this strange bleak wilderness of rock and ice, it was not hard to believe.

[ACOK; Jon VII]

So: There is a skinchanger who dies because of Jon but a part of him keeps living in his animal: eagle.

The interesting thing is that between these two Jon chapters (Orell and eagle dream) comes a very important Sansa chapter which has many parallels with Jon VI chapter...

An example of parallels:

[…] ‘All I ask is a flower,’ Bael answered, ‘the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o’ Winterfell.”

“Now as it happened the winter roses had only then come into bloom, and no flower is so rare nor precious…

[ACOK; Jon VI]

Sansa lowered her head. “The blood frightened me.”

“The blood is the seal of your womanhood. Lady Catelyn might have prepared you. You’ve had your first flowering, no more.”

Sansa had never felt less flowery. “My lady mother told me, but I… I thought it would be different.”

[ACOK; Sansa IV]

For more, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: B5

In this chapter Sansa says she wants to be loved and Cersei warns her that “love kills too...” Next chapter is Jon with his eagle dreams and warging abilities:

A half smile flickered across the queen’s face. “[…]Robert wanted to be loved. My brother Tyrion has the same disease. Do you want to be loved, Sansa?”

“Everyone wants to be loved.”

“I see flowering hasn’t made you any brighter,” said Cersei. “Sansa, permit me to share a bit of womanly wisdom with you on this very special day. Love is poison. A sweet poison, yes, but it will kill you all the same.”

[ACOK; Sansa IV]

Let’s move on to third book...

A STORM OF SWORDS:

Orell and Wargs

In ASOS; Jon I, we learn the name of the Wildling that Jon has killed in ACOK; Jon VI:

“He slew Qhorin Halfhand,” said Longspear Ryk. “Him and that wolf o’ his.”

“And did for Orell too,” said Rattleshirt.

“The lad’s a warg, or close enough,” put in Ragwyle, the big spearwife. “His wolf took a piece o’ Halfhand’s leg.”

[...]

“What’s this?” he said. “A crow?”

“The black bastard what gutted Orell,” said Rattleshirt, “and a bloody warg as well.”

“You were to kill them all.”

“This one come over,” explained Ygritte. “He slew Qhorin Halfhand with his own hand.”

[ASOS; Jon I]

This Jon chapter comes after ASOS; Sansa I.

And these chapters have many parallels such as:

Sansa knelt at the feet of her future queen. “You do me great honor, Your Grace.” “Won’t you call me Margaery? Please, rise. Loras, help the Lady Sansa to her feet. Might I call you Sansa?”

[ASOS; Sansa I]

“I would be pleased to eat, Your Grace. And thank you.”

“Your Grace?” The king smiled. “That’s not a style one often hears from the lips of the free folk. I’m Mance to most, The Mance to some. Will you take a horn of mead?”

[ASOS; Jon I]

For more, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: C1

We also learn about Sansa’s new betrothed: Willas Tyrell..

Willas has a bad leg and so does Jon, in ASOS:

“Willas has a bad leg but a good heart,” said Margaery. “He used to read to me when I was a little girl, and draw me pictures of the stars. You will love him as much as we do, Sansa.”

[ASOS; Sansa I]

If the mare had gone down, he would have been doomed. “A lucky thing my leg got in the way,” he muttered.

He rested for a while to let the horse graze. She did not wander far. That was good. Hobbled with a bad leg, he could never have caught her.

[ASOS; Jon V]

Let’s keep reading...

In ASOS; Jon II chapter Jon’s eagle dream from ACOK comes true and Orell’s eagle attacks Jon’s eye:

He could still hear wings, though the eagle was not in sight. Half his world was black. “My eye,” he said in sudden panic, raising a hand to his face.

“It’s only blood, Jon Snow. He missed the eye, just ripped your skin up some.”

[…]

Can a bird hate? Jon had slain the wilding Orell, but some part of the man remained within the eagle. The golden eyes looked out on him with cold malevolence.

[…]

I will need to get this tended, he thought, but not just now. Let the King-beyond-the-Wall see what his eagle did to me.

[…]

The look Mance gave Jon was grim and cold. “What happened to your face?”

Ygritte said, “Orell tried to take his eye out.”

“It was him I asked. Has he lost his tongue? Perhaps he should, to spare us further lies.”

Styr the Magnar drew a long knife. “The boy might see more clear with one eye, instead of two.”

“Would you like to keep your eye, Jon?” asked the King-beyond-the-Wall. “If so, tell me how many they were. And try and speak the truth this time, Bastard of Winterfell.”

Jon’s throat was dry. “My lord… what…”

[ASOS; Jon II]

Jon almosts loses his ‘one eye’ and becomes Jon ‘One Eye’ Snow because of this attack..

After this eagle attack Jon chapter comes ASOS; Sansa II

And these chapters have many parallels such as:

Jon wheeled and followed Tormund back toward the head of the column, his new cloak hanging heavy from his shoulders. It was made of unwashed sheepskins, worn fleece side in, as the wildlings suggested.

[…]

“I wear the cloak you gave me, Your Grace.”

[ASOS; Jon II]

A new gown?” she said, as wary as she was astonished.

“More lovely than any you have worn, my lady,” the old woman promised. She measured Sansa’s hips with a length of knotted string. “All silk and Myrish lace, with satin linings. You will be very beautiful. The queen herself has commanded it.”

“Which queen?” Margaery was not yet Joff’s queen, but she had been Renly’s. Or did she mean the Queen of Thorns? Or…“The Queen Regent, to be sure.”

[ASOS; Sansa II]

For more, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: C2

And after the chapter of an eagle attacks Jon’s eye we learn in next chapter that Sansa’s betrothed Willas Tyrell flies EAGLES:

“Willas has the best birds in the Seven Kingdoms,” Margaery said when the two of them were briefly alone. “He flies an eagle sometimes. You will see, Sansa.”

[ASOS; Sansa II]

Why is Almost One Eye Jon and Sansa Stark being near to each other important?

Because the first Sansa Stark in Stark family tree was married with her half-uncle Jonnel ‘One Eye’ Stark:

So another Sansa being close to another Stark family member who almost had lost his one eye sounds interesting.

Well, Jon didn’t lose his eye but his face got scarred:

He had almost forgotten about his face. “A skinchanger tried to rip out my eye.”

Noye frowned. “Scarred or smooth, it’s a face I thought I’d seen the last of. We heard you’d gone over to Mance Rayder.”

[ASOS; Jon VI]

Who else has a scarred face? Sansa’s husband- Tyrion Lannister:

“I like your scar.” She traced it with her finger. “It makes you look very fierce and strong.”

He laughed. “Very ugly, you mean.”

“M’lord will never be ugly in my eyes.” She kissed the scab that covered the ragged stub of his nose.

[ASOS; Tyrion II]

Varamyr

What happens to this eagle later?

Skinchanger, Varamyr Sixskins, takes control of Orell’s eagle. Varamyr uses the eagle to scout Castle Black and spots Stannis Baratheon’s arrival at the Wall.

The eagle bursts into flames during the attack on Castle Black with Melisandre claiming she was responsible.

The skinchanger was grey-faced, round-shouldered, and bald, a mouse of a man with a wolfling’s eyes. “Once a horse is broken to the saddle, any man can mount him,” he said in a soft voice. “Once a beast’s been joined to a man, any skinchanger can slip inside and ride him. Orell was withering inside his feathers, so I took the eagle for my own. But the joining works both ways, warg. Orell lives inside me now, whispering how much he hates you. And I can soar above the Wall, and see with eagle eyes.”

[...]

“Banners,” he heard Varamyr murmur, “I see golden banners, oh . . .” A mammoth lumbered by, trumpeting, a half-dozen bowmen in the wooden tower on its back. “The king . . . no . . .”

Then the skinchanger threw back his head and screamed.The sound was shocking, ear-piercing, thick with agony. Varamyr fell, writhing, and the ’cat was screaming too.... and high, high in the eastern sky, against the wall of cloud, Jon saw the eagle burning. For a heartbeat it flamed brighter than a star, wreathed in red and gold and orange, its wings beating wildly at the air as if it could fly from the pain. Higher it flew, and higher, and higher still.

[ASOS; Jon X]

Melisandre burns the eagle. Who else got burned in the books?

Jon Snow in AGOT:

He had burned himself more badly than he knew throwing the flaming drapes, and his right hand was swathed in silk halfway to the elbow. At the time he’d felt nothing; the agony had come after.

[AGOT; Jon VIII]

And Jon burns himself in AGOT; Jon VII:

Jon tried to shout, but his voice was gone. Staggering to his feet, he kicked the arm away and snatched the lamp from the Old Bear’s fingers. The flame flickered and almost died. “Burn!” the raven cawed. “Burn, burn, burn!”

Spinning, Jon saw the drapes he’d ripped from the window. He flung the lamp into the puddled cloth with both hands. Metal crunched, glass shattered, oil spewed, and the hangings went up in a great whoosh of flame. The heat of it on his face was sweeter than any kiss Jon had ever known. “Ghost!” he shouted.

The direwolf wrenched free and came to him as the wight struggled to rise, dark snakes spilling from the great wound in its belly. Jon plunged his hand into the flames, grabbed a fistful of the burning drapes, and whipped them at the dead man. Let it burn, he prayed as the cloth smothered the corpse, gods, please, please, let it burn.

[AGOT; Jon VII]

This Jon chapter comes after AGOT; Sansa IV:

And these two chapters have many parallels such as:

So she went to the queen instead, and poured out her heart, and Cersei had listened and thanked her sweetly … only then Ser Arys had escorted her to the high room in Maegor’s Holdfast and posted guards, and a few hours later, the fighting had begun outside.

[AGOT; Sansa IV]

They took his knife and his sword and told him he was not to leave his cell until the high officers met to decide what was to be done with him. And then they placed a guard outside his door to make certain he obeyed. His friends were not allowed to see him, but the Old Bear did relent and permit him Ghost, so he was not utterly alone.

[AGOT; Jon VII]

Yet somehow it seemed colder with Jeyne gone, even after she’d built a fire. She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florian and Jonquil, of Lady Shella and the Rainbow Knight, of valiant Prince Aemon and his doomed love for his brother’s queen.

[AGOT; Sansa IV]

Yet he was trembling, violently. When had it gotten so cold?

[…] 

Metal crunched, glass shattered, oil spewed, and the hangings went up in a great whoosh of flame. The heat of it on his face was sweeter than any kiss Jon had ever known. “Ghost!” he shouted.

[AGOT; Jon VII]

For more, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: A10

What happens to skinchanger Orell and warg Varamyr after the eagle burst into flames?

The incident greatly affects Varamyr and supposedly kills the remnants of Orell inside the eagle.

After the defeat of the wildlings at the battle beneath the Wall, Varamyr has lost all his possessions in his madness from experiencing the eagle’s death; he has also lost control of his snow bear and shadowcat, but his wolves remain.

[Orell dying completely and Varamyr gets mad also reminds me another resurrected character Beric Dondarrion who also has ONE EYE and him dying for good to bring Catelyn Stark back to life... And like Varamyr, Lady Stoneheart loses her mind too... ]

Let’s move on to fourth book...

A FEAST FOR CROWS:

Jon is not even in this book?

But Sansa is and we learn few things about her crushes:

Waymar Royce:

She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl.

[AFFC; Alayne I]

Grrm reminds us Waymar Royce aka the biggest foreshadowing for Jon in AFFC book via Sansa’s chapter...

Loras Tyrell:

Loras was another crush of Sansa and we learn that he got burned really bad in AFFC.

Like the eagle and Jon.

“Tell me,” said Margaery. “I command it.” Command it? Cersei paused a moment, then decided she would let that pass. “The defenders fell back to an inner keep once the curtain wall was taken. Loras led the attack there as well. He was doused with boiling oil.” Lady Alla turned white as chalk, and ran from the room. “The maesters are doing all they can, Lord Waters assures me, but I fear your brother is too badly burned.”

[AFFC; Cersei VIII]

More about Loras // Jon, please check: Jonsa Book Hints: A8

Let’s keep reading the fifth book...

A DANCE WITH DRAGONS:

In ADWD; Prologue Varamyr encounters with Others (just like AGOT; Prologue) and Varamyr’s body dies, but his mind lives on in his wolf One Eye.

And Varamyr also thinks about Jon and his direwolf..

So we have dead warg who kept living in his animal: A WOLF whose name is ONE EYE.

Varamyr could feel the snowflakes melting on his brow. This is not so bad as burning. Let me sleep and never wake, let me begin my second life. His wolves were close now. He could feel them. He would leave this feeble flesh behind, become one with them, hunting the night and howling at the moon. The warg would become a true wolf. Which, though?

[...]

“They say you forget,” Haggon had told him, a few weeks before his own death. “When the man’s flesh dies, his spirit lives on inside the beast, but every day his memory fades, and the beast becomes a little less a warg, a little more a wolf, until nothing of the man is left and only the beast remains.”

Varamyr knew the truth of that. When he claimed the eagle that had been Orell’s, he could feel the other skinchanger raging at his presence. Orell had been slain by the turncloak crow Jon Snow, and his hate for his killer had been so strong that Varamyr found himself hating the beastling boy as well. He had known what Snow was the moment he saw that great white direwolf stalking silent at his side. One skinchanger can always sense another. Mance should have let me take the direwolf. There would be a second life worthy of a king. He could have done it, he did not doubt. The gift was strong in Snow, but the youth was untaught, still fighting his nature when he should have gloried in it.

[...]

A sleeping direwolf raised his head to snarl at empty air. Before their hearts could beat again he had passed on, searching for his own, for One Eye, Sly, and Stalker, for his pack. His wolves would save him, he told himself. That was his last thought as a man. True death came suddenly; he felt a shock of cold, as if he had been plunged into the icy waters of a frozen lake. Then he found himself rushing over moonlit snows with his packmates close behind him. Half the world was dark. One Eye, he knew. He bayed, and Sly and Stalker gave echo. When they reached the crest the wolves paused.

[...]

The things below moved, but did not live. One by one, they raised their heads toward the three wolves on the hill. The last to look was the thing that had been Thistle. She wore wool and fur and leather, and over that she wore a coat of hoarfrost that crackled when she moved and glistened in the moonlight. Pale pink icicles hung from her fingertips, ten long knives of frozen blood. And in the pits where her eyes had been, a pale blue light was flickering, lending her coarse features an eerie beauty they had never known in life. She sees me.

[ADWD; Prologue]

Jon dies in his last ADWD chapter and his last word was his direwolf’s name: GHOST...

[ADWD; Jon XIII]

So we have a full circle:

It started with Agot; Prologue

and ended with ADWD; Jon XIII

Let’s not forget that Jon’s death was foreshadowed in ASOS; Sansa VI chapter.

Lord Petyr dismissed him with a wave, and returned to the pomegranate again as Oswell shuffled down the steps. “Tell me, Alayne—which is more dangerous, the dagger brandished by an enemy, or the hidden one pressed to your back by someone you never even see?”

“The hidden dagger.”

“There’s a clever girl.” He smiled, his thin lips bright red from the pomegranate seeds.

[ASOS; Sansa VI]

Next chapter was Jon:

Fore more about Jon’s death and Sansa; please check:

Jonsa Book Hints: C12 & E7

“Do not be so certain.” The ruby at Melisandre’s throat gleamed red. “It is not the foes who curse you to your face that you must fear, but those who smile when you are looking and sharpen their knives when you turn your back. You would do well to keep your wolf close beside you. Ice, I see, and daggers in the dark. Blood frozen red and hard, and naked steel. It was very cold.”

“It is always cold on the Wall.”

“You think so?”

“I know so, my lady.”

“Then you know nothing, Jon Snow,” she whispered.

[ADWD; Jon I]

In conclusion:

Jon’s death, him warging into his direwolf during his death and him coming back to life arc has been foreshadowed since AGOT; Prologue and its most obvious hints were given in ADWD; Prologue by echoing AGOT; Prologue.

The ‘ONE EYE’ motif seems like a key hint for his resurrection.

And Sansa is always close to this motif or she has some connections with this motif via other characters or her chapters.

A Sansa Stark being close to another ‘ONE EYE’ Stark is interesting because of the historical couple: Jonnel ‘One Eye’ & Sansa Stark in Stark family tree..

Even the hints of Jon’s death can be found in Sansa chapters.

All of these tell us that Sansa will be important in Jon’s past resurrection story.

Thanks for reading.

Some sources:

Waymar // Jon

Disfigurements

Jonnel / Sansa

Jon’s fate and losing an eye

#jonsa #jon snow #varamyr #orell #jonnel one eye stark #sansa stark #agot #acok #asos #affc #adwd #actually jonsa #jon snow x sansa stark #waymar royce #one eye #meta #mine

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warpedbelief · 2 years

Text

some very random asks

1. how many pillows do you sleep with? Two, stack them when I’m watching tv, then separate them when I’m ready to sleep.

2. do you believe in soulmates? Sometimes

3. would you ever kiss a stranger? Maybe?

4. describe your dream house All on one floor. Lots of room in the kitchen with an island, but the stove and sink next to each other since it’s easier to transfer pots and pans back and forth. Walk in shower in the bathroom, with a jacuzzi tub. A separate room for my funkos. A big living room with tv and sound system perfect for watching movies. King sized bed.

5. do you usually use cash or card? Card

6. do you enjoy driving in general? I don’t drive.

7. do you like your name? if not, what would you change your name to? My mom wanted to name me Jedidiah, so this name is okay.

8. what’s your favorite cuisine? Chinese

9. how often do you get massages? Never

10. do you play video games? if so, what games? I bounce around between games a lot. Right now I’m playing Dying Light 2 and Dead By Daylight on PC and on Switch, Pokemon Brilliant Diamond, Lego Marvel Super Heroes 2, Animal Crossing

11. do you prefer to color with colored pencils, crayons, or markers? Colored Pencils

12. what other fandoms are you in? Doctor Who, Supernatural if that’s still a thing.

13. do you have a signature in your style/everyday outfits? T-Shirt and jeans when I go out T-Shirt and pajama pants when I’m home and it’s cold.

14. do you have any pets? if not, do you want some in the future? No pets. Maybe one day in the future but not with the current living situation.

15. do you give objects you own a name? (car, house, plants, etc) No

16. do you like the weather where you live? Not really. Feels too cold in the winter and too hot in the summer. I hate snow.

17. if you could wear one color for the rest of your life, what would it be? Grey or black

18. do you like making small talk? Depends on who it’s with.

19. what’s your favorite social media platform? This hellhole

20. have you ever been to hawaii? No

21. name a fashion trend that you absolutely hate Can’t think of any

22. name a fashion trend that you absolutely love Can’t think of any

23. what was the last text you sent? Look at you go

24. when making plans, do you like to organize or go with the flow when the time comes? Organize

25. what do you want to name your future kids? Never thought about it

26. do you have a type? Yes

27. when was the last time you kissed someone? Eight years ago

28. how often do you cook? Never

29. do you think __x__ is overrated or underrated? Yes

30. do you always remember your dreams? Not usually

31. do you believe in ghosts? Yes. Please be nice.

32. would you ever want to move outside of your country? In theory, yes. In practice, probably not.

33. describe your first love We were long distance and it was on and off for years. It was very bittersweet.

34. more peanut butter or more jelly? Peanut butter

35. do your irls know about your tumblr account? A few do, but no one uses it anymore.

36. do you prefer hot or cold beverages? I like room temperature

37. when was the last time you finished a book? Phew, years.

38. what would you want your wedding colors to be? White? I’m not sure.

39. how long do you let your nails grow? I don’t.

40. if you could stay at a certain age, what age would you pick? 28

41. who do you think has it easiest: older siblings or younger siblings? Younger

42. how often do you post on social media? If this site counts, multiple times a day. I don’t really post to other sites anymore.

43. do you enjoy big groups? Absolutely not.

44. do you like it when you’re awaken by the sounds of birds chirping? Yes

45. which hand is your favorite? Right

46. how many people do you follow? 492

47. how many followers do you have? 859

48. how many drafts do you have? 28. Some old asks from Irma. Rest in peace.

49. do you hang or fold your sweaters? Hang

50. even numbers or odd? Even

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years

Text

Monday 24 February 1840

5 ¼

2 ¾

got up immediately on Gross’s calling us – we had nicely arranged our beds last night against the walls – not long before A- got up meaning up all night – I tried to bear it out – impossible, so bit, no sleeping – thought of Jackson who told us to put our beds on the floor in the middle of the room – did so, and tho’ A- says she soon followed my example I was asleep before she had moved her bed next to my mine – I had given all my things a good shake – she had caught 5 white fleas on her nightcap – all packed and ready in an hour at 6 ¼ - then wrote the above and breakfast – R11 ½° on the on the window seat of one of the 4 windows in our nice little room – larger than last night, and about 5x4 yards and no! 14 1/2x10 1/2ft. and 8ft. high – windows frames 4ft. 2in. x 2ft. 6in. and our 2 doors 6ft.x2.ft 5 ½in. –

7 ½ to 11 5/.. Tatiuschi [Tetjuši] to Tarchany 30

12 20/.. to 5 7/.. T- to Virshka [Vyshki?] (pronounced Veershkah) 25

6 35/.. to 11 ¼ V- to Simbirsk (4 horses each kibitka) 30

R-10° dehors at 7 10/.. a.m. – off at 7 ½ - at 8 ½ Tchudo village with neat largeish looking church and handsome clocher adjoining so as to form the great west entrance into the church – the clocher at Bolgari [Bolgary] close adjoining to the sort of lofty porch by which one entered (west) the church – we have latterly had churches of one square amid part and a sort of aisle up to it, and porch or clocher entrance – we seem to have one 5 domed churches at Kazan – the people Tartar? at Tetiuschy [Tetjuši] and here (Tarchany) – at Tchudo piles of largeish fir logs laid up under sheds – what for? for government magazines (said George having inquired of the Jemptshik (driver) – small snow driving about from about 8 a.m. snow in the night, apparently a good deal – about 9? another village and on the high plain (apparently chiefly stubble ground) flight of birds about the size of pigeons sea-gull grey and white - pretty looking birds – like small seagulls – a magpie on 2 now and then – no magpies at Moscow, nor any since till 4 or 5 at Sviask – the little bee-swarm traps everywhere – at 7 or 8in. diameter fir-branch about 20in. long hollowed out and covered over the top like a little [?] – hung up against the house-end – or against a high gate-post, or something high – I like travelling in Russia – I like its steppes, - its vastness – the adventures, the luxuries of polished life are never beyond reach, yet in the intervals there is a wild freedom from the tyranny the gêne of civilization that pleases me – a governed freedom where law is order and order law, and each man fears his God and honours his sovereign and lives in good fellowship with his neighbour even amid the various peuplades de la Russie – pretty well wooded today – [copied this out at Tarchany waiting for horses till now 12 5/.. p.m.]

SH:7/ML/E/24/00024

written out at Simbirsk Tuesday 25 February

interminable high plain covered with tops standing up above the snow, of absinthe? – such as we saw dried at the Vodki fabrique at Liskovo [Lyskovo]? occasionally picturesque little villages and windmills – now (9 ¾) [?] with 6 sails and one with 4 – at 9 50/.. large village and handsome stone (probably brick covered over) white church with its clocher joining up to it and forming great west entrance into the church – in 5 minutes thro’ the village and cross little frozen river? Tarchany at 11 5/.. poorish little Tartar village – poor little Station house with oxgut instead of glass windows – but 2 rooms one for the family etc. (sick animals or what not) and the little room with oven-stove in it that we were in the people coming in to look at us as if we were some strange animals such as they had not seen the like before – the windows (of the gut of cattle) did not shew any joining and yet the glazings, the sheet of darkish brownish shrivelly gut? must have about 2ft. by 18 or 20in.? in many Isbas cottages (as we came along vid. p. 36) we had seen the windows done in little squary panes glazed with this gut, tho’ the gut is generally in one piece large enough to glaze the whole opening – while waiting at Tarchany wrote out journal [crossed sentence] and on going away bought 10 eggs (boiled by Georges’ mistake) ./20 and ten embroiled ./40 the people Tartars with small dark eyes, and a sharpish looking countenance and dark complexion quite different from Russians – off at 12 20/.. with very poor cattle fed the moment before setting off – the 1st time we have been so badly horsed but the Tartars do not keep their horses so well as the Russians – Virshka (pronounced Vēērshkah) at 3 as I supposed on driving into the village – good church and clocher seen in the distance – but no! we had turn out of our a little to the left into this village to see if we could get horses – none to be had – I did not know this till 3 ¼, when George came to say we had 9 versts to go and these horses could not take us – the courier beat our near horse and then our driver – the man cried or whined, and said he could not get the horses on – true they were 3 sorry animals, and our servants had no better – I said they must go au pas (footspace) – they must take us – we should arrive sometime at Virshka where they said at the last village we were sure to get horses – at 3 55/.. copse forest of oak and lime and a few hazels – the young lime twigs red – query, were not my red willows on the Volga islands from Nijni [Nižnij], Limes? lime-bushes? still snowing, small snow – at 4 5/.. fair and the sun out, and we crawl on – at 5 7/.. Virshka at last – poor little morduan village – 20 or more men and boys and as many women and girls about us in a few minutes – quite a throng, all trying to get a

peep at us – quite different looking people from our sharp countenanced Tartars of Tarchany more Fin-like – broader faces, and stupider looking – Morduans – the shubes of the Tartars more jacket like than those of the Russians, and the dress of these Morduans in shape like that of the Tartars but generally of a dark brown coarse woollen cloth rather than sheepskin – much ado to get horses – what did we come here for? not the great route – should have 5 horses each kibitka but only 8 to be had – A- and I did not get out of our kibitka – left the courier to fight it out among them as he best could – thought we were off at 6 ¼ - but they had given us 5 horses and a boy on the 2 leaders and we stopped to take off one of our horses and give it to the servants so that each kibitka had 4 horses, or we should have left the servants behind – they could not have kept pace with us – this yoking 4 horses abreast and leaving one boy that was to have driven one pair of leaders, took 20 minutes so that it was 6 35/.. before we were really en route again – this is worse said George than the Tartars; but they keep their horses better so that we shall get on faster – we had one verst to go from the village before getting to the Volga, and then the rest of our road lay on the frozen river – too dark to see anything – How unlucky we are in this respect – we had hurried in the morning to reach Simbirsk by day light – in vain – I slumbered till we had gone 12 versts – then got out for a moment went behind the servants’ kibitka and did job first time of so managing could not alight the last stage then slept the rest of the way, and alighted at Simbirsk at 11 ¼ - but we had surely been ½ hour hunting for lodgings – the town had been burnt said George – difficult to find a lodging – however at 11 ¼ good comfortable 3 room apartment of servants being somewhere – tea things and samovar all very nicely and quickly brought up, and sat down to tea about 12 – had Domna – read a little - .:. late in bed – undressed, and had our sheets, a luxury we owe to the prévoyance of la charmante princesse – driving small snow almost all the day till about 4 (vid. line 3 from bottom last p.) and then soon after had the snow shaken off our chalats and bags etc. and A- feeling it cold had the door on my side shut – that on her side shut all day – A- queerish and impatient so shut my door and no more of her

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une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir · 3 years

Text

Jon Snow = Rhaegal

This is a sibling post to this. It works precisely in the same way.

When she opened it, she found piles of the finest velvets and damasks the Free Cities could produce … and resting on top, nestled in the soft cloth, three huge eggs. (...) One egg was a deep green, with burnished bronze flecks that came and went depending on how Dany turned it.

Hypothesis: Jon Snow = Rhaegal

If Aegon = Viserys, then Jon = Rhaegal.

Other thing to note is the bronze is a metal important in the north, for example the crown of the kings of winter was made of bronze. The egg has a duplicitious nature, things appear and disappear depending on how Danerys looks at it.

The green one shall be Rhaegal, for my valiant brother who died on the green banks of the Trident.

Like Aegon = Viserion post, what Rhaegar die for exactly? Robert’s Rebellion was fuelled by Aerys being a crazy loon, but in specific Rhaegar’s death came at Robert’s hands, who killed him for “kidnapping” Lyanna Stark.

"The Others take your honor!" Robert swore. "What did any Targaryen ever know of honor? Go down into your crypt and ask Lyanna about the dragon's honor!"

"You avenged Lyanna at the Trident," Ned said, halting beside the king. Promise me, Ned, she had whispered.

"That did not bring her back." Robert looked away, off into the grey distance. "The gods be damned. It was a hollow victory they gave me. A crown … it was the girl I prayed them for. Your sister, safe … and mine again, as she was meant to be. I ask you, Ned, what good is it to wear a crown? The gods mock the prayers of kings and cowherds alike."

(his face... HIS FACE...)

Like Aegon = Viserion post, all these aspects are also present in House of Undying visions.

three fires must you light . . . one for life and one for death and one to love (...) Viserys screamed as the molten gold ran down his cheeks and filled his mouth. A tall lord with copper skin and silver-gold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him. Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman's name. . . three treasons will you know . . . once for blood and once for gold and once for love . . .(...) Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . .

There’s the love of a woman, since Rhaegar dies whispering a woman’s name, then there’s the result of that love, Jon represented as a blue flower (Lyanna’s favourite) on the Wall (where he spends most of the narrative. Fits.

Considering the trichotomy Rhaegar / Rhaegal / Jon applies to the third stanza of the first and the third groups, it’s natural to apply it to the second stanza, so somehow must fit, so in the end we have. “three fires must you light . . . (...) one to love (...) Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman's name. . . “ and “three mounts must you ride (...) one to love (...) From a smoking tower, a great stone beast took wing, breathing shadow fire. . . (...) and “three treasons will you know . . . once for gold (...) A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . ."

Applying the same logic to the trichotomy Viserys / Viserion / Aegon, we then have. “three fires must you light . . . (...) one for death (...) A tall lord with copper skin and silver-gold hair stood beneath the banner of a fiery stallion, a burning city behind him.“ and “three mounts must you ride (...) one to dread (...) A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd. (...) and “three treasons will you know . . . once for gold (...) A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly."

Like Aegon = Viserion post, I said the conclusion of all that Viserys being crowned with a “golden crown” by Drogo, Viserion named after him, and Aegon echoing in that specific’s dragon subtext was Danerys feels betrayed by Aegon crowning himself king of the Iron Throne, then she burns King’s Landing as a response.

Similarly, the conclusion for all this Rhaegar dying for the woman he loved, Rhaegal being named after him, and Jon echoing in that specific’s dragon subtext is Danerys is betrayed by Jon loving another. In the show, Jon Snow loved his sisters, that’s why he betrayed her and killed her. So... it fits, though the types of love aren’t the same. *shifts eyes*

It’s worth noting that applying this logic to the first stanza of the three groups, we get Danerys / Drogon. Three heads has the dragon.

----

What else? All of Rhaegal’s mentions are listed below... and some of them fit what we saw in the show.

A CLASH OF KINGS

The green one shall be Rhaegal, for my valiant brother who died on the green banks of the Trident.

We all know Rhaegar’s story. In broad strokes, he was “born in grief” while others died around him, something happened as a young child which made him decide to become a warrior despite not being fit for it, he’s melancholy by nature and goes to Harrenhal to brood, is fond of wearing black to battle, he’s in love with a Stark (in Jon’s case, only platonically, *suuure... rolls eyes*) and let hundreds die for her sake, etc etc. Like Viserys isn’t Aegon, Rhaegar isn’t Jon... but you know..

"Your hair is coming back, Khaleesi," Jhiqui said as she scraped sand off her back.(...) Dothraki men wore their hair in long oiled braids, and cut them only when defeated. Perhaps I should do the same, she thought, to remind them that Drogo's strength lives within me now. Khal Drogo had died with his hair uncut, a boast few men could make.

Across the tent, Rhaegal unfolded green wings to flap and flutter a half foot before thumping to the carpet. When he landed, his tail lashed back and forth in fury, and he raised his head and screamed. If I had wings, I would want to fly too, Dany thought. The Targaryens of old had ridden upon dragonback when they went to war. (ACOK ~ Danerys I)

Danerys thinking of her defeated hair and of Drogo’s undefeated hair, followed by Rhaegal screaming and Targaryens fighting in wars, suggests Danerys will be defeated by Jon but not in battle. This is what happened in the show, Jon defeated Danerys but not in battle. Some thing between Rhaegal and a braid had already been alluded to in AGOT (see at the very end of this post).

"Then I grieve for you, Dragonmother, and for bleeding Westeros, bereft of its rightful king."

Beneath Dany's gentle fingers, green Rhaegal stared at the stranger with eyes of molten gold. When his mouth opened, his teeth gleamed like black needles. (ACOK ~ Danerys II)

The (ship!) captain laments Viserys’ death, who was the rightful king of Westeros, then Rhaegal basically bares his teeth like a dog or... a wolf.. ready to attack. I once thought this was just a pun on Jon being the rightful king of Westeros, but it might be the case that Danerys kills Aegon, who’s the rightful king of Westeros, with Jon taking offence on his behalf.

It’s also worth noting Danerys is being “nice” to Rhaegal as she’s touching him with “gentle fingers”, while he’s the one being aggressive and baring his teeth. We’ll see this pattern of her being nice and soft with him (except for ONE notable occasion), but he’s always a bitch to her, many times.

"A dream delayed, no more." Dany's tight silver collar was chafing against her throat. She unfastened it and flung it aside. The collar was set with an enchanted amethyst that Xaro swore would ward her against all poisons. The Pureborn were notorious for offering poisoned wine to those they thought dangerous, but they had not given Dany so much as a cup of water. They never saw me for a queen, she thought bitterly. I was only an afternoon's amusement, a horse girl with a curious pet.

Rhaegal hissed and dug sharp black claws into her bare shoulder as Dany stretched out a hand for the wine. Wincing, she shifted him to her other shoulder, where he could claw her gown instead of her skin. She was garbed after the Qartheen fashion. Xaro had warned her that the Enthroned would never listen to a Dothraki, so she had taken care to go before them in flowing green samite with one breast bared, silvered sandals on her feet, with a belt of black-and-white pearls about her waist. For all the help they offered, I could have gone naked. Perhaps I should have. She drank deep. (ACOK ~ Danerys III)

Like in Aegon = Viserys, where the talk of poison was mentioned, here it shows up once more (it will appear one more time). I do think this is plenty of suggestion that someone from #TeamAegon is most likely going to attempt to poison Danerys, just like Varys tried in the show.

Danerys realises they never saw her as queen, just an amusement with a curious pet, which is followed by Rhaegal hurting her by sinking his claws into her skin. The subtext is interesting, because the former is what political!Jon was based on (Jon never seeing Danerys as worthy of being queen, but using her for the dragons), while the latter is basically what happened in the show (Jon killed Danerys with a knife). Some malicious stabbing is definetly occuring, whether she dies or not... maybe. I’m still holding on to my girl Arya to come through.

Also worth noting, there’s a whole description of Qartheen fashion of one bared breast, but she thinks she might have gone naked instead. In the show, Danerys is delusional enough to try to rekindle her relationship with Jon after blowing up KL and he entertained it to distract her, before stabbing her. Then I remember Littlefinger’s quote "When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it. (...) Waiting won't make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it. (...) A steel kiss." I didn’t think that Danita begging for her nephew’s cock while he kills her couldn’t be topped, but doing it while thinking they’ll do the nasty...

I have become the most splendid beggar in the world, but a beggar all the same. She hated it, as her brother must have. (....) I have something Viserys never had. I have the dragons. The dragons are all the difference.

She stroked Rhaegal. The green dragon closed his teeth around the meat of her hand and nipped hard. (...) Aggo guarded on her other side, while Rakharo rode behind the procession, watching the faces in the crowd for any sign of danger. Ser Jorah she had left behind today, to guard her other dragons; the exile knight had been opposed to this folly from the start. He distrusts everyone, she reflected, and perhaps for good reason.

As Dany lifted her goblet to drink, Rhaegal sniffed at the wine and drew his head back, hissing. "Your dragon has a good nose." Xaro wiped his lips. "The wine is ordinary. It is said that across the Jade Sea they make a golden vintage so fine that one sip makes all other wines taste like vinegar. Let us take my pleasure barge and go in search of it, you and I.”

"The Arbor makes the best wine in the world," Dany declared. Lord Redwyne had fought for her father against the Usurper, she remembered, one of the few to remain true to the last. Will he fight for me as well? (...) I mean to sail to Westeros, and drink the wine of vengeance from the skull of the Usurper." She scratched Rhaegal under one eye, and his jade-green wings unfolded for a moment, stirring the still air in the palanquin.

A single perfect tear ran down the cheek of Xaro Xhoan Daxos. "Will nothing turn you from this madness?"

Danerys thinks of how she’s superior to Viserys, she has dragons while he has not, followed by Rhaegal attacking her. It happens once more a few paragraphs down. Danerys says she will kill the usurper and Rhaegal is basically raising his hackles. Again, the subtext of Danerys killing Aegon because she doesn’t think he’s a real dragon like she is, but then Jon taking offence on his behalf and attacking her shows up.

Interestingly, in the same segment Danerys thinks how Viserys was known as the beggar king, but as we also know from the Aegon = Viserion post, Viserion does what Viserys could not, Viserys begged (even though he said the dragon doesn’t beg) while Aegon refuses to beg for Danerys’ help (” Why should I go running to my aunt as if I were a beggar?”) and goes on his own.

Also interestingly, after Rhaegal attacks Danerys, she looks outside to watch her bloodriders protecting her and thinking Jorah distrusts everyone with good reason. But Rhaegal is inside of her palanquin with her, the bloodriders won’t protect her against the dragon. In the show, Jon was allowed inside the Red Keep past her Unsullied / Dothraki guards, then attacked her.

There’s also yet another mentioned of foul wine. Danerys’ was almost killed in AGOT with poisoned wine. In the show, Varys tried to kill her with poisoned wine (which was one of his suggestions when Robert was brainstorming how to get rid of her). She mentions the Redwynes and what loyalty they have. At this point, Redwynes are Tyrell loyal.

In the show, Varys backs Danerys (instead of Aegon) and Oleanna (who is a Redwyne!) allies with Danerys to get revenge on Cersei (in theory, she has Aegon’s role). Whatever conodrum D&D made to compensate for Aegon being slashed off, we have elements in common here. Varys (#TeamAegon) and poison as well as wine and the Redwynes (in specific, Oleanna).

Drogon was curled up beneath her arm, as hot as a stone that has soaked all day in the blazing sun. Rhaegal and Viserion were fighting over a scrap of meat, buffeting each other with their wings as smoke hissed from their nostrils. (ACOK ~ Danerys III)

Like said in Aegon = Viserion post, Aegon and Jon, fighting over something (most likely north versus south). This happens while Drogon (Danerys) soaks beneath the sun (Slaver’s Bay, Volantis, you know beyond the narrow sea). Speculation for book only, most likely Jon and Aegon will naturally clash in TWOW / ADOS, while Danerys is terrorising elsewhere.

A STORM OF SWORDS

Viserion's scales were the color of fresh cream, his horns, wing bones, and spinal crest a dark gold that flashed bright as metal in the sun. Rhaegal was made of the green of summer and the bronze of fall. They soared above the ships in wide circles, higher and higher, each trying to climb above the other.

Dragons always preferred to attack from above, Dany had learned. Should either get between the other and the sun, he would fold his wings and dive screaming, and they would tumble from the sky locked together in a tangled scaly ball, jaws snapping and tails lashing. The first time they had done it, she feared that they meant to kill each other, but it was only sport. No sooner would they splash into the sea than they would break apart and rise again, shrieking and hissing, the salt water steaming off them as their wings clawed at the air. Drogon was aloft as well, though not in sight; he would be miles ahead, or miles behind, hunting. (ASOS ~ Danerys I)

Same sentiment as above. Aegon and Jon fight each other, with the added bonus that it isn’t very serious (or not “permanent” enemies), while Danerys is doing something else elsewhere.

Rhaegal and Viserion were the size of small dogs, Drogon only a little larger, and any dog would have out-weighed them; they were all wings and neck and tail, lighter than they looked. And so Daenerys Targaryen must rely on wood and wind and canvas to bear her home. (ASOS ~ Danerys I)

Like said in Aegon = Viserion post, most likely, just flavour test. Could indicate Danerys’ forces will outmatch Jon and Aegon separately though. In the show, this fit for #TeamJon. And now that I think of it, also fit #TeamCersei (who’s filling for Aegon’s role).

She took a chunk of salt pork out of the bowl in her lap and held it up for her dragons to see. All three of them eyed it hungrily. Rhaegal spread green wings and stirred the air, and Viserion's neck swayed back and forth like a long pale snake's as he followed the movement of her hand. "Drogon," Dany said softly, "dracarys." And she tossed the pork in the air.

Drogon moved quicker than a striking cobra. Flame roared from his mouth, orange and scarlet and black, searing the meat before it began to fall. As his sharp black teeth snapped shut around it, Rhaegal's head darted close, as if to steal the prize from his brother's jaws, but Drogon swallowed and screamed, and the smaller green dragon could only hiss in frustration.

"Stop that, Rhaegal," Dany said in annoyance, giving his head a swat. "You had the last one. I'll have no greedy dragons." She smiled at Ser Jorah. "I won't need to char their meat over a brazier any longer."

"So I see. Dracarys?"

All three dragons turned their heads at the sound of that word, and Viserion let loose with a blast of pale gold flame that made Ser Jorah take a hasty step backward. Dany giggled. "Be careful with that word, ser, or they're like to singe your beard off. It means 'dragonfire' in High Valyrian. I wanted to choose a command that no one was like to utter by chance." (ASOS ~ Danerys I)

All three dragons are eager to fight. “three heads has the dragon”. The Dance of Dragons II. Other things to note. Danerys hits Rhaegal for being greedy. I cannot believe she hit him. Like... he’s just a baby. :(

"The warlocks in Qarth told you that you would be betrayed three times," the exile knight reminded her, as Viserion and Rhaegal began to snap and claw at each other. (ASOS ~ Danerys I)

Like said in the Aegon = Viserion post, Aegon and Jon, fighting over something. It’s likely they’ll fight as a north faction versus south faction. Either against each other for the land, or against Danerys to defend each of their factions. Either way, these must be the root of their betrayals. This is speculation for book only, for TWOW / ADOS.

Dany had commanded that the top be removed, so her three dragons might be chained to the platform. Irri and Jhiqui rode with them, to try and keep them calm. Yet Viserion's tail lashed back and forth, and smoke rose angry from his nostrils. Rhaegal could sense something wrong as well. Thrice he tried to take wing, only to be pulled down by the heavy chain in Jhiqui's hand. Drogon coiled into a ball, wings and tail tucked tight. Only his eyes remained to tell that he was not asleep. (ASOS ~ Danerys III)

Viserion and Rhaegal (Aegon and Jon) know something is wrong. Drogon (Danerys) doesn’t give a shit. This is the same chapter Danerys burns Astapor sooo... not a good look for Daniella.

Drogon flew almost lazily at Kraznys, black wings beating. As he gave the slaver another taste of fire, Irri and Jhiqui unchained Viserion and Rhaegal, and suddenly there were three dragons in the air. (ASOS ~ Danerys III)

Like said in the Aegon = Viserion post, a three way battle “the dragon has three heads”. The Dance of Dragons II.

(there’s a bunch of Rhaegal references already covered in Aegon = Viserion post, fast-forward to the next not covered one).

Daario is right, I shouldn't have banished him. I should have kept him, or I should have killed him. She played at being a queen, yet sometimes she still felt like a scared little girl. Viserys always said what a dolt I was. Was he truly mad? She closed the book. She could still recall Ser Jorah, if she wished. Or send Daario to kill him.

Dany fled from the choice, out onto the terrace. She found Rhaegal asleep beside the pool, a green and bronze coil basking in the sun. Drogon was perched up atop the pyramid, in the place where the huge bronze harpy had stood before she had commanded it to be pulled down. He spread his wings and roared when he spied her. There was no sign of Viserion, but when she went to the parapet and scanned the horizon she saw pale wings in the far distance, sweeping above the river. He is hunting. They grow bolder every day. Yet it still made her anxious when they flew too far away. One day one of them may not return, she thought.

This one was actually covered before, one of many Viserion turns away from Danerys, paralleling Aegon’s choice of not going to Danerys and invading Westeros on his own. However, what I didn’t notice the first time because this isn’t a proper meta, just dumping thoughts, This is the narrative block of Danerys finding out of Jorah’s betrayal (what she thinks is one anyway). Twice poignant!

Rhaegal is asleep beside a pool, Drogon is atop a pyramid where a harpy once stood, and Viserion is hunting in the distance. Obviously, distance doesn’t matter. These are stand-ins for Jon and Winterfell (the godswood pool... that’s an interesting place for the betrayal for platonic love to be in :)...) and Aegon attacking Westerons, while Danerys is still beyond the narrow sea. If this lecture is correct, she’s reaaally coming very late to Westeros.

A DANCE OF DRAGONS

Almost the whole shtick was already covered in the Aegon = Viserion post. Things to note: Rhaegal is aggressive towards Danerys and towards those that hurt his brother.

Once, not long ago, he had ridden on her shoulder, his tail coiled round her arm. Once she had fed him morsels of charred meat from her own hand. He had been the first chained up. Daenerys had led him to the pit herself and shut him up inside with several oxen. Once he had gorged himself he grew drowsy. They had chained him whilst he slept.

Rhaegal had been harder. Perhaps he could hear his brother raging in the pit, despite the walls of brick and stone between them. In the end, they had to cover him with a net of heavy iron chain as he basked on her terrace, and he fought so fiercely that it had taken three days to carry him down the servants' steps, twisting and snapping. Six men had been burned in the struggle. (ADWD ~ Danerys II)

Jonnathan Snowflake died went to the gym and flexes hard. I’m kidding.

The subtext suggests it’s more difficult to subdue Jon than Aegon. Or better, it suggests Danerys actually tricked Aegon into submission with some kind of tempting offer, while Jon had to submitted by force. For example, it would make sense if Danerys offered an alliance to Aegon and he accepted but then never followed through (like Astapor or Yunkai). While Jon wouldn’t be swayed, so he was forced to do it. Not quite it went in the show, when Cersei (Aegon) was the one that refused to yeld, while Jon... well that trainwreck. It could be that Jon was also playing some of Aegon’s (maculine) role.

The rain had drowned the worst of the fires, but wisps of smoke still rose from the smoldering ruin that had been the pyramid of Hazkar, and the great black pyramid of Yherizan where Rhaegal had made his lair hulked in the gloom like a fat woman bedecked with glowing orange jewels. (...) The only Meereenese the dragons had slain since Harghaz the Hero had been the slavers foolish enough to object when Rhaegal attempted to make his lair atop the pyramid of Hazkar. (...) He wondered where Rhaegal was. Thus far the green dragon had shown himself to be more dangerous than the white. (ADWD ~ The Queen’s Hand)

A dragon on top of a pyramid = king. It could be Winterfell / North sure, but this came AFTER Rhaegal killed Quentyn on Viserion’s behalf. Such it could be King’s Landing. I’d always though Jon would very briefly be king at the end, until he abdicated in favour of Bran to avoid another war, as nobody wanted those Targs on the throne. Doesn’t fit with the punish part though.

It’s also worth noting that once again, the subtext plants the idea that Jon is more dangerous than Aegon. As a final note, Rhaegal making his lair hulked in the gloom like “a fat woman bedecked in flowing orange jewels” is very Smaug of him. <3

----

Now, for bonus, the eggs proper. Not Rhaegal, but his green egg features in an important scene, just after Danerys hits Viserys for the first time.

"I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, not some grass-stained savage with bells in his hair," Viserys spat back at her. (...) His fingers dug into her arm painfully and for an instant Dany felt like a child again, quailing in the face of his rage. She reached out with her other hand and grabbed the first thing she touched, the belt she'd hoped to give him, a heavy chain of ornate bronze medallions. She swung it with all her strength.

It caught him full in the face. Viserys let go of her. Blood ran down his cheek where the edge of one of the medallions had sliced it open. "You are the one who forgets himself," Dany said to him. "Didn't you learn anything that day in the grass? Leave me now, before I summon my khas to drag you out. And pray that Khal Drogo does not hear of this, or he will cut open your belly and feed you your own entrails." (...) Drops of his blood had spattered the beautiful sandsilk cloak. (...) "Please, bring me one of the dragon's eggs."

Irri fetched the egg with the deep green shell, bronze flecks shining amid its scales as she turned it in her small hands. Dany curled up on her side, pulling the sandsilk cloak across her and cradling the egg in the hollow between her swollen belly and small, tender breasts. (...) She was lying there, holding the egg, when she felt the child move within her … as if he were reaching out, brother to brother, blood to blood. "You are the dragon," Dany whispered to him, "the true dragon. I know it. I know it." And she smiled, and went to sleep dreaming of home. (AGOT ~ Danerys IV)

Like in Aegon = Viserys post, I said that there is evidence for Jon taking offence over Danerys trying to usurp his brother Aegon. We can see that reflected in this scene. I once thought the whole thing was about Danerys’ trying to usurp Jon (I thought the visions were more complex than what they were), but right now I’m thinking that is about Danerys’ usurping Aegon (and / or his cousins) and Jon taking offence over it.

In this case, Danerys gets Viserys some clothing offers. Viserys doesn’t take her offer well and rages against it, saying he’s the king. The two fight and Danerys reaches for the belt and uses it like a whip, drawing blood from his cheek and staining the cloak. Danerys then covers herself and the green egg with the bloodstained cloak and saying that Viserys isn’t the dragon, Rhaego (Drogon) is, and dreams of home.

Let’s recap how Viserion is taken prisoner, which is basically the same steps as the Danerys and Viserys fight above. Danerys tricks Viserion by baiting him with a meaty offer, then he rages on the pit when he realises the truth. Much later, Quentyn tries to subdue Viserion with a whip and someone draws blood from his neck. Moving forward, Danerys says unborn Rhaego is the true dragon, which implies she believes that Viserys isn’t. You know, the reason why Danerys says once Viserys is murdered by Drogo. So, this all fits with the subtext of Danerys killing Aegon because he was crowned king.

Then Danerys covers herself and the green egg with the sandsilk cloak, but note that this cloak is stained with Viserys’ blood. Then she dreams of home, which in Danerys’ chapters ALWAYS means Danerys burning King’s Landing (I made a post about this before, it’s somewhere). All it was missing from the Danerys and Viserys fight versus Viserion taken prisoner is Rhaegal killing Quentyn for the affront against his brother. However, Rhaegal is in this scene too, inside his egg beneath the bloodied cloak. It’s “missing” Viserion though... or is it?

Dany gave the silver over to the slaves for grooming and entered her tent. It was cool and dim beneath the silk. As she let the door flap close behind her, Dany saw a finger of dusty red light reach out to touch her dragon's eggs across the tent. For an instant a thousand droplets of scarlet flame swam before her eyes. (AGOT ~ Danerys III)

The Usurper has woken the dragon now, she told herself … and her eyes went to the dragon's eggs resting in their nest of dark velvet. The shifting lamplight limned their stony scales, and shimmering motes of jade and scarlet and gold swam in the air around them, like courtiers around a king. (...) Cradling the egg with both hands, she carried it to the fire and pushed it down amongst the burning coals. The black scales seemed to glow as they drank the heat. Flames licked against the stone with small red tongues. Dany placed the other two eggs beside the black one in the fire. As she stepped back from the brazier, the breath trembled in her throat. She watched until the coals had turned to ashes. (AGOT ~ Danerys VI)

The Dance of Dragons between the three Targaryens might feature in the three egg mentions described above. It’s worth noting the first features Danerys returning home (”entered her tent”) and a red door (”the door flap close behind her, a finger of dusty red light”). In Danerys’ chapters, either always means burning King’s Landing (”a thousand droplets of scarlet flame swam before her eyes”).

"Yes?" the maegi asked. "What is it you wish, Khaleesi?"

"Bring me … egg … dragon's egg … please …" Her lashes turned to lead, and she was too weary to hold them up.

When she woke the third time, a shaft of golden sunlight was pouring through the smoke hole of the tent, and her arms were wrapped around a dragon's egg. It was the pale one, its scales the color of butter cream, veined with whorls of gold and bronze, and Dany could feel the heat of it. Beneath her bedsilks, a fine sheen of perspiration covered her bare skin. Dragondew, she thought. Her fingers trailed lightly across the surface of the shell, tracing the wisps of gold, and deep in the stone she felt something twist and stretch in response. (AGOT ~ Danerys IX)

Danerys doesn’t want her child or Drogo, her first thoughts are the eggs. This is quite telling where her priorities lie. Regardless, Danerys just miscarried Rhaego and the egg chosen ot be there is... Viserion’s. There’s Rhaego in the sandsilk sequence after all and this link between Rhaego and Viserion is suggest a third time in...

She climbed the pyre herself to place the eggs around her sun-and-stars. The black beside his heart, under his arm. The green beside his head, his braid coiled around it. The cream-and-gold down between his legs.(AGOT ~ Danerys X)

Danerys’ places Egg!Drogon besides Drogo’s heart and the dragon was named after the man, so Drogo’s blood sacrifice awakened Drogon. Danerys’ places Egg!Viserion at Drogo’s loins, who produced... that’s right, Rhaego, so Rhaego’s blood sacrifice awakened Viserion. Danerys’ thought Rhaego was “the true dragon”, not Viserys... and that’s how she justified killing him. But Rhaego’s blood sacrifice awakened Viserion, the dragon that is symbolic of Aegon, whom she’ll kill for not believing he’s a true dragon.

Also, Danerys’ places Egg!Rhaegal next to Drogo’s head with his braid around it, the symbol of his undefeated status (congruent with ACOK mentioned somewhere above), so Mirri Maz Duur’s sacrifice awakened Rhaegal. Danerys’ thought she was using Mirri Maz Duur, teaching her a lesson... but the dragon the maegi’s blood awakened, is also the dragon that is symbolic of the man that kills Danerys.

Narrative vengence served (very) cold.

#i stan two dragons #anti daenerys targaryen #anti aegony #anti jonerys

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insolitus-academy · 2 years

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♚ // Face Claim Full name Face Claim: kim jae young. Group/Band/Occupation: actor/model. Nationality: korean Faceclaim age: year ‘88 (currently 33).

♚ // Character ; Basic information

Quote: there are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. (maya angelou [insomniac])

Full name character: jang yoonsu (elvish name: sephir crevan) Nickname: seph Realm of birth: dark realm, place called ‘aendrithyr’. Age: over 3000 years. Date of Birth: unknown / follows a different calendar, that is not applicable to the human one. Gender: male. Preferred Pronouns: he/him. Race: night elf. Sexual Orientation: pansexual. What is the level of Korean and how did they learn to speak it: native level. he acquires language by listening to it/being exposed to it for a long time but nevertheless needs to focus in order to learn, figure out patterns, etc.

♚ // Character ; Appearance

Skin Color: tanned here, turns grey-ish when he returns home/doesn’t use magic to hide it. Eye color: dark/black irises, that have shimmer of red when exposed to strong emotions, depending on intensity the red shade becomes more prominent. whites will turn black, when he allows it/feels comfortable. Scars: one on his left eyebrow. Piercings: septum. Tattoos: traditional patterns of his people, which wind all over his upper body but he’s not ‘fully covered’. Hair color: the darkest shade, which can be seen by the being that sees him. Abnormalities: pointy ears.

♚ // Character ; Personality

Six personality traits: loyal, whimsical, debonair, spontaneous, tolerant, deceitful.

Likes: bluntness / honesty, blueberries, snow, books, shiny things. Dislikes: disrespecting personal space, narrow-mindedness, cats AND dogs, indecisiveness Manias: gardening. Phobias: being left alone for the rest of eternity, forgotten. Animal: fox Religion: doesn’t follow any. Favorite song: currently, this song. Vice: pride. Virtue: charity.

Personality description:

to this day sephir could not get rid of his curiosity, he swallows books like his life depends on it. at this point he might have also already read most of the books in the library of the academy. in his free time he does tend to a garden and also likes to help out at the academy’s garden, when his assistance is needed/requested. the deadliest part about himself would be that his ‘carefreeness’ is mostly misinterpreted as a weakness. it’s easier to picture him as a kind-hearted elf than one of the demon realms. however, it’s merely an act and if he wishes to be he can be quiet brutal and cruel. especially, when others mean harm to someone or something sephir has grown fond of.

after his exile, finding trust is still a difficult topic to sephir, that’s also why he depends on magic so much given his appearance. it’s not that he’s afraid to show himself or doesn’t like to be a night elf but the disguise somewhat works in favour of his own needs. he doesn’t want to deal with unnecessary conflicts right now and avoids them to ensure him a stay in the academy. he has pretty much broken up contact with his father, yet can’t deny some irritating thoughts that push him to the verge of doing morally questionable actions. as long as he can draw profit of something he behaves. although sometimes not even he himself is fully aware of his ulterior motives. they come and go and nearly change daily.

♚ // Character ; Powers Magical Powers: fire based magic and dark arts.

Non-magical Powers: strong with stealth and sneaking, gardening, sewing.

Weaknesses:

light: in a way that it hurts for him to look at, when exposed to it for too long. like really bright places. it doesn’t scorch his skin or anything ─ just gives him a headache.

ancient dagger: back then in the aendrithyria districts, each of the head families had a customised dagger. they’re now in possession of sephir’s father (as far as he knows currently) and they’re the only five daggers that could actually poison him with a single cut, due to their material.

loner: he realises it’s a disadvantage and that he’s dependent on other people. he hopes to change that. to find someone who understands and accepts him for who he is. this could also turn into desperation but he tries to fight this.

♚ // Character ; The Teacher / Staff

Class they teach: defence against the dark arts, elvish (spoken and sign). Teaching style: strict. Previous teaching experience: none. but since he’s the son of his former clan’s leader, he has only learnt from the best.

♚ // Character ; The Past

Date of Birth: n/a. Crime Record: none, it’s clean ─ if something had happened, he hid it well or someone else was put to blame.

Has your character attended Insolitus Academy in the past? no. Background:

( war trigger warning ; death trigger warning )

aendrithyria wasn’t always a kingdom ruled by a single family. there were districts, where elves nurtured the local ancient spirits. the spirits, however, only tolerated each other as long as they respected their individual authority equally. as it is in chaos’ nature it started to feel bored. whispering doubts into the most influential habitant of its district. an ancestor of sephir. sowing anguish. on the annual conference sephir’s ancestor spreads bad faith at the table, bringing up rumours that have been ignored for too long. it didn’t take a lot of convincing for everyone to arrange their defences. in a time of terror that has never been experienced before, they thought their only way to fight it is war. while most of the ancient spirits started to fade, chaos grew stronger and stronger with drop of blood. that’s how the people of aendrithyria became night elves ruled under the crevan family.

they establish themselves within the demon realms, where chaos guides them to. everyone who doesn’t want to follow is executed on the spot.

sephir is a spoilt brat, and an expert at what his kind does best. being a thief. but except for piles of gold, sephir mostly returns with unique copies of books. not really of much worth to his father. yet, he allows sephir to learn from them, believing the knowledge and skills he learns to require will be beneficial for them. sephir doesn’t recognise his father’s corruption by chaos, growing up to believe it’s simply in their nature ─ to even kill their own kind. there’s a artefact in a language that would take him awhile to figure out entirely. what he does know though is that it shows him how to bend the oldest of spirits. naively, he shares that info with his father, until chaos starts to feel threatened. sephir is exiled into the dark forests in the human realms. left to fight for himself, it’s unlikely that someone there would accept a pariah and it wouldn’t take much for him to fall into a lonesome abyss. luckily, he finds shelter in the insolitus academy, becoming one of their teachers. he hides his typical night elf appearance behind magic most of the time and he can’t help but smirk, when someone complains about a missing piece of jewellery or anything alike. only a few know of his true nature, fully aware that a few beings don’t appreciate his kind’s presence.

♚ // Roleplayer [ optional ]

Time zone: gmt +1

OOC! Triggers: none.

Themes/genres you like writing the most?: all! but most of the days i thrive on angst.

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turtle-paced · 4 years

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GoT Re-Watch: Fine-Toothed Comb Edition

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8.06 – The Iron Throne

Or, A Close-Up of Tyrion Lannister.

(1:59) Right, now that the best part of the episode is over (RIP clockwork credits), who’s ready for lots of shots of people walking around the rubble? Figurative and literal rubble? Shot of Tyrion starts here! Close up on Peter Dinklage, hooooold that close up, keep the background out of focus so we’ve only got the suggestion of the devastation he’s reacting to in the background…

(2:32) After holding that shot for thirty fucking seconds, we get to see what it is Tyrion’s reacting to. Dead kid in the rubble, in this case. Let’s just keep following Tyrion’s walking tour of the ruins of King’s Landing in complete silence, Jon and Davos trailing behind him.

(3:41) Still following people through the rubble. Skeletons visible, charred child’s toy because we didn’t get the point yet…

(3:57) We have dialogue! Whooo! And then we go right back to Tyrion walking through King’s Landing.

(4:58) You know, it’s remarkable how Lannister soldiers got a lot more attractive once the narrative allowed ordinary Lannister soldiers to be the victims of main characters. Seriously, go back and compare this lot to, say, any of the ones Arya came across in the season two-four era.

(5:45) Now we see a little bit of a conflict between the Northern forces and the Unsullied over the appropriate handling of the prisoners in the aftermath. Hang on to the thought for just a few minutes more.

(6:28) Speaking of character derailment, Grey Worm is also just here for the war crimes. That tiny little bit at the start of last episode where Dany hands over Missandei’s only possession to Grey Worm and he chucks it into the fire is the last we saw of either of their internal state of mind prior to both of them getting on the civilian/prisoner massacre train. After multiple seasons of these characters holding strongly to some sense of ideals and ethics (even if they’re not ethics you agree with!), through a lot of messed up bullshit, they just chuck all those ethics out here in the last two episodes.

(6:33) Tyrion continues walking through ruins.

(7:36) Cut to Tyrion walking through the ruined ground level of the Red Keep to Tyrion walking through the ruined secret passages of the Red Keep. Yes, that took more than a minute. Does anyone get the feeling there’s not actually much plot to this plot? Anyone feeling like we’re largely substituting shots of Peter Dinklage emoting over the ruins of King’s Landing for writing how Tyrion Lannister would react to the burning of King’s Landing?

The man can act. But nobody can act enough to make up for this sucking black hole of plot vacuity. And it blunts the impact of what’s coming up.

(9:19) Tyrion finds Jaime’s golden hand in the rubble of the mostly-uncollapsed tunnel. Shortly thereafter, he uncovers both Jaime and Cersei. A few metres to one side and they would have been fine.

Here is where we need to hold on Tyrion as he breaks down over the discovery of his siblings’ dead bodies. Here is where those tight close ups are going to have most impact. Unfortunately, of the eight minutes of episode, we’ve already spent about five of them with only Tyrion and Tyrion’s emotions to engage us as he walked through King’s Landing.

(11:00) Speaking of people walking through rubble, it’s Arya! The main difference between her in this episode and her in last episode is that she slowed her pace down from a run. Where’d the white horse she was riding go? Who knows. Off with the symbolism, we’ve got more symbolism to jam in here and we are not going to be as subtle as a white horse.

(11:33) Jon walks through Dany’s forces. First the Dothraki, all on their horses, arakhs bared despite the conflict ending. Then through the Unsullied, lined up in perfect rows with perfect armour including helmets, despite having been in a fight a couple hours ago.

Have you spotted what’s missing here? Because I have.

(13:05) See, now that’s symbolism! As Dany approaches her armies (wearing all black, natch), we get a shot of Drogon behind her so that it looks like his wings are emerging from Dany’s back! I haven’t seen symbolism this delightfully subtle since Man of Steel. Her Satanic Majesty indeed.

(13:33) We’re getting long pans over Dany’s forces, and this is where I am going to say it.

This is racist as fuck. It’s out of some fucking propaganda booklet somewhere.

We all understood (at least I hope we all understood) that when Cersei was talking about “hordes of Dothraki savages” etc etc in season seven, that was an in-universe racist dogwhistle. She was appealing to the xenophobia and racism of Westerosi lords to rally support to her own cause. And here in season eight, we see that when Cersei was talking about savage hordes etc etc, she was actually correct. Completely, 100% correct. The in-universe racism was validated by the plot. We did not get “each side is bad, because that’s war in a feudal setting” (like we did when it was mostly white people in conflict with other white people). We got soft-looking Lannister soldiers and white civilians killed in the streets, and now we’re panning over the armies that did it, almost entirely PoC. The Dothraki cheering is the only background noise, so you can be sure that it’s meant to sound foreign and alarming. The Unsullied are damn well stormtroopers, dehumanised in their discipline and in their uniformity. The shots are denying them faces.

Meanwhile, the white Northerners (who absolutely participated in the slaughter last episode) are nowhere to be fucking seen. Now that we’re showing the eeeeeeeevil that is Dany’s cause fully unveiled, with the speeches in a “foreign language”, the black outfits, the black and red banners, the whole shebang, the white people other than Dany aren’t fully participating. We’re getting white people as victims, or mysteriously missing from shots of the bad guys, and the people of colour as the bad guys, their otherness emphasised through direction and mise en scene.

Even with the plot points the showrunners wanted (which are bad enough on their own), they did not have to do this like this. Depicting the Unsullied as battle-worn human beings as opposed to Stormtrooper Evil Robots was an option. Including the Northern forces in the shots of the new bad guys was an option. Reminding people that the Lannister army is not a war-crime-free zone was an option. Casting the King’s Landing crowds as more racially diverse was an option. Not introducing and contextualising this conflict with naked xenophobia and racism was an option.

They did not do any of this. There are so many ways they could have done something that did not vindicate the in-universe racists. Instead we’ve got this fucking lazy, fucking racist shortcut of “these guys are the bad guys and you can tell because they’re not white and European-coded.”

(13:54) The other thing to note here is that Dany is now perfectly put together. She’s brushed her hair. She’s wearing clean clothing. She’s perfectly serene. We’re no longer getting the way-too-close ups to indicate a precarious emotional state. In other words, the show has dropped the indications that Dany is insane even more abruptly than it introduced them. Hold the thought.

(14:57) The Unsullied are not allowed emotional expression anymore, because now they are evil robots who do war crimes. This goes for Gray Worm (addressed conspicuously with the translation of his name, rather than the immediately-audible reminder that ‘Gray Worm’ was a slave name) who gives half a smile, and the Unsullied at large, who tap their spear butts on the ground in lieu of cheering.

(15:33) Ah, the other sign that Dany is an irredeemable monster. She wants to liberate slaves. For fuck’s sake, the woman firebombed a major city without any sort of justification last episode, that’s the evil part. Not the bit where she wants everyone to live in freedom. And yet we’re getting the ominous music and the serious reaction shots from reasonable white men over this as well.

(17:20) Tyrion freed Jaime? Yeah, Dany, wait until you hear what Tyrion promised regarding Highgarden, it’s a bit of a plot hole.

(17:47) Tyrion tenders his resignation, effective immediately.

(18:29) He is also arrested.

(19:19) Arya, last seen at the back of the crowd, does a bit of mild teleporting to arrive next to Jon as he watches Dany walk away. Just so you know why Arya’s there and what she’s doing.

(20:09) Strong contender for the stupidest line of the series, right here. I know that I didn’t think I’d hear one to match the infamous “bad pussy” line. Arya, about Dany, after the latter burned down a city on her giant fire-breathing dragon, in full daylight and in front of three full armies: “I know a killer when I see one.”

(20:40) Oh. Joy. This scene. I have not been looking forward to recapping this scene. If that last line was stupid, this scene brings stupid and offensive to the table.

(21:10) Ah yes, Tyrion betrayed Varys. That pure, innocent angel Varys, who used children in his plots to murder monarchs. As we all know, Varys’ motives were noble, and so this excuses the fact that he risked a child’s life in an assassination attempt.

(21:28) Oh yeah! Remember when Jon was resurrected? That affected a lot of things, didn’t it? A major player in the metaphysical and political arenas, that’s Jon Snow!

(22:37) “She liberated the people of Slaver’s Bay. She liberated the people of King’s Landing. And she’ll go on liberating until the people of the world are free…and she rules them all.”

Okay, there’s a bit to unpack here, because the show is smushing some concepts together.

First up is the implied equation of Dany’s actions in Slaver’s Bay to her actions in King’s Landing. I mean, forgive me if I’m wrong, but I don’t recall Dany burning Meereen to the ground. When last we saw the Meereenese theatre, it was left with the implication that she’d left a reasonably stable outfit in charge. With the implication that the slaving powers in the region had been broken. (How plausible the depiction was is another matter.) Dany just fucking set fire to King’s Landing. These two things…really aren’t that much alike. Show!Dany liberated Slaver’s Bay. She murdered King’s Landing. We can make a pretty clear distinction between her actions in each respective place. They should not be lumped in the same category.

Nor do her actions in Slaver’s Bay logically lead to her actions in King’s Landing. We’ll get into the thinking behind this part of the line when the showrunners make this connection even more explicit and offensive.

Second, just chucking in that “world domination” thing at the end. Again we’re getting this core idea that because Dany is willing to use violence to achieve idealistic ends, she’s necessarily a power-hungry tyrant in her own right. To say nothing of the leap between “Dany wants to rule the Seven Kingdoms” to “Dany wants to take over the world.” Especially given the alleged basis for Dany’s desire for the Iron Throne, i.e. she considers it her birthright. Since she believes she’s entitled to one piece of pie (debateable), she will inevitably attempt to take the entire pie.

(23:02) “It was vanity to think that I could guide her. Our queen’s nature is fire and blood.” Oh, gag me with a spoon. What happened to the word “counsel” or “advise”? Because the use of the word “guide” is a lot more teacher-student dynamic, with Tyrion in the position of power. Dany’s a grown goddamn woman, a queen for years before Tyrion came along, who hired him to advise, not to teach. Hell yeah it’s vanity!

But more than that, it’s so fucking condescending. Oh, tragic little Daenerys, who needed a man’s guidance, but succumbed to her essential nature of uncontrolled violence. This doesn’t even frame Dany’s decision to burn a fucking city as her decision. News flash: there is no dark side of the force making a puppet out of show!Dany, show!Dany made her evil decisions independently. For shitty, poorly-explained, poorly-thought-out, poorly written reasons, yes, but there we go.

(23:07) Jon addresses the bullshit “we are definitely our parents” argument.

(23:23) Which Tyrion responds to by saying “dude, did you see how many people she killed?” Which doesn’t actually address the fucking issue. He’s still arguing that Dany = Mad Queen = totally a Targ thing. Remarkably, it’s like the characters in-universe can’t think of a convincing reason for this plot development either.

Speaking of, how many people did Cersei kill? It’s like she committed some sort of atrocity, perhaps at the end of season six, that by rights should have turned all of Westeros against her to the point that everyone should have been overjoyed to see an alternative ruler show up.

(23:45) But what the conversation as a whole drives towards is this central point: Dany is evil. Not crazy. Evil. Which makes the last two episodes, with their hysterical woman bullshit, even more purely gratuitous. And also emphasises just how abrupt that fucking heel turn was. Episode three, Dany, saving humanity! Episode five, Dany, burning down a whole city because she doesn’t think John Smith of 3 Main Street, King’s Landing, is woke enough!

(24:24) “What does it matter what I’d do?” Jon asks. Hey, a good question. What have Jon’s decisions mattered thus far this season?

(24:31) And here it is, maybe the lowest moment in the series, as far as I’m concerned, and it’s got some stiff competition.

“When she murdered the slavers of Astapor, I’m sure no one but the slavers complained. After all, they were evil men. When she crucified hundreds of Meereenese nobles, who could argue? They were evil men. The Dothraki khals she burned alive? They would have done worse to her. Everywhere she goes, evil men die, and we cheer her for it. And she grows more powerful and more sure that she is good and right.”

Where to even start? The echoes of Niemoller’s famous First they came…? Sure! Why not. First Daenerys came for the slavers, and the only people who spoke out were other slavers. Then Daenerys came for other slavers, and nobody spoke out, because they were slavers. Then Daenerys came for a third group of slavers who incidentally threatened to rape her, and nobody spoke out, because they were slavers, who incidentally threatened to rape her and in every instance we can see why someone might violently oppose slavers. Meanwhile, in a key difference from First they came…, the people who are being “come for” are persecuted parties (in the context to which the text refers, keep that in mind with the Communists). Not the oppressors. Portraying the slavers as the injured parties here, and not, like, the central problem in all thistakes some fucking nerve. Or some serious moral blindness.

Next, the attack on the audience. Shame on them for delighting in seeing evil fought! Successfully as well! Shame! Where’s my shame bell?

For the most part, the show framed most of Dany’s actions in Essos as just and positive. In later seasons, we saw Dany take violent actions. But at every step of the way to this point, the show did keep in sight that Dany was fighting fucking slavers. Her end goal was securing freedom for the former slaves. While the show from time to time questioned her means, up until oh, season eight episode four, her ends were portrayed as noble. So to start questioning those ends now, here in the final two episodes of the entire series, is a little jarring. Especially since, as mentioned beforehand, we haven’t seen any signs of Dany conflating “free people from tyranny” with “take over the world, mwahahaha” until her very scary speech just then. At most, she was conflating “free people from tyranny” with “defeat Cersei and assume rule of Westeros.” Which, given that Cersei blew up the Sept of Baelor with more than a hundred people inside, would seem, y’know. Fair enough to think that defeating Cersei would be freeing people from tyranny.

The viewer was not wrong to think that show!Daenerys had good intentions for the vast majority of this show. Yes, she also had personal ambitions and character flaws. The viewer was not wrong to think that the show wanted us to support Dany’s apparent ambitions of freeing people and overthrowing the dynamite-happy Cersei. Here in season eight, episode six, the show is trying to gaslight its own viewers with this “it was there all along!” horseshit.

Finally, the politics. Fighting evil makes you evil, don’t you know. Making an oppressor stop makes you just as bad as the oppressor, in the end. Do what show!Tyrion does, both in season six with the slavers and in seasons seven and eight with Cersei, and continue making futile appeals to an enemy who’s repeatedly taken advantage of peaceful processes. That’s how you stop injustice.

Even on what the show itself has shown us: that is some horse. shit.

In short, the writing here is bad and the politics are worse.

(25:25) “Wouldn’t you kill whoever stood between you and paradise?” What a wacky utopian notion Dany’s got in her head, a world without slavery.

Also, weird question, because no is a valid and reasonable answer to Tyrion’s question. Or perhaps not so weird, when you consider that the show has been pretty reliable in saying yes, the ends do justify the means. The exception is when someone gets one of the aforementioned wacky utopian notions in their head. You know. Killing children is bad, slavery is evil, feudal monarchy isn’t any great shakes…things like that.

(26:05) “I love her too,” Tyrion says. This was…kinda set up. Kinda. The staring as Jon went to Dany’s rooms at the end of season seven, the fact that Tyrion’s not patronising sex workers any more – that equals love. First, though, I’m not feeling it, because Tyrion’s spent very little personal time with Dany. Most of his interactions with her have been all business, and most of his business has been disagreeing with her about serious moral and ethical issues. Staring is not a substitute for character interaction.

I also find this pretty superfluous. Like, it’s not enough that Tyrion’s boss went nuts and killed an entire city, including his siblings, he has to be in love with her as well. He couldn’t have just genuinely believed in Dany’s good intentions and her ideals, he had to be in love with her. And again, Dinklage can act, but nobody can act well enough to make up for a script that just hasn’t done the work.

(27:13) What I’m noticing at this point is that in a scene that is all about suggesting to Jon that he may need to put down his girlfriend, Jon’s barely said a damn thing. He got in a few lines about people not being their parents, but mostly he’s just let Tyrion exposit about his philosophy and his emotions. The scene gets across how Tyrion feels…but not Jon.

(27:43) So just to confirm, yes, Tyrion is asking Jon to kill Dany.

(28:41) “And your sisters?” Tyrion asks Jon as he’s halfway out the door. Bran who?

(28:57) Another reminder that the only logical reason Sansa told Tyrion about Jon’s parentage is to put him forward as a Dany-alternative, despite telling her because it mattered a lot to him that he could be open with his family (a sign of how much he values their relationship), despite his requests for her to keep it secret for political reasons, and despite his personal opposition to becoming king. Show!Sansa…is not a very nice person.

(29:23) Jon walks down a corridor.

(29:43) Oh, thank goodness, that was only twenty seconds of Jon walking places before we saw something different and interesting. Remarkable restraint. Incidentally, I’m pretty sure this is supposed to be snow and not ash.

(31:04) Dany approaches the Iron Throne, fulfilling the show’s take on the House of the Undying prophecies. No, that does not mean the show was always headed for Dany becoming the ultimate villain. It’s just a better retcon than Arya killing the Night’s King.

(31:44) Now this is a better use of people-walking-places shots. It’s not just the one shot of a person walking down a hall, it’s watching someone walk towards an object with significance in a setting which has recently changed dramatically. The time we spend watching Dany walk towards a a chair here lets us see those changes and process the culmination of her ambitions.

Or continue screaming in outrage, take your pick.

(33:41) Jon Snow, finally emoting! Finally expressing an opinion! About bloody time, mate.

(34:56) In this scene, Dany is worlds away from the angry, dishevelled, heavy-breathing figure she’s been for the last two episodes. She’s back to perfect grooming. She’s smiling. She shared a story about her childhood with Jon. Much like with Cersei, we’re spending the final moments of Dany’s life emphasising Dany as a woman, just happy to be spending some time with her boyfriend. Ha ha, joke’s on her, her boyfriend is going to kill her. More on this in just a second.

By the way, it would still have been offensive if Dany was in mwa-ha-ha, burn them all mode, or in the same state she was in at the start of episode five. This is because the central decision here, to make Dany a villain due to her idealism (in some fucked up notion that fighting for a better world is itself a slippery slope), was offensive. Also poor writing.

(35:11) “How do you know it’ll be a good world?” Jon asks, and Dany replies “Because I know what is good.”

(35:33) Plus “They don’t get to choose,” Dany says, in a way too perfect echo of the conversation Tyrion just had with Jon. Okay, joke’s over, who replaced Dany with Tyrion’s straw man? We need to get on with the actual finale now.

(36:17) Dany basically proposes to Jon. They start kissing.

(36:33) Then Jon stabs her. While they’re making out.

This is so many terrible, misogynistic storytelling devices rolled into one. Again before we hit the issue of shitty writing decisions. Dany’s gone mad with power! Her reasonable boyfriend must save her from herself. If only she were in her right mind, she would doubtlessly agree. Dany was killed by her boyfriend in a moment of physical intimacy! Oh, uh, wow, that might not look so great huh – better justify it with her mass murder of civilians. The real tragedy here is how it affects the men who love Daenerys! Not the woman who got fucking murdered.

(36:41) And Dany dies without a hair out of place, a trickle of blood from her mouth and another from her nose. No inconvenient protesting, either. Very neat, very clean. 10/10 for tidiness.

So I’m on to the thing about gendered character deaths! So many female characters killed off in ways meant to emphasise some aspect or another of their femininity. Melisandre is a good, recent exception. Margaery and Olenna Tyrell, Obara and Nymeria Sand, they escaped gendered deaths.

Cersei died begging for her boyfriend’s comfort. Catelyn, Selyse Baratheon, and Ellaria Sand all died with trauma over the deaths of their children. Myrcella Baratheon died just as she accepted that she was Jaime’s daughter. Tyene Sand was killed to cause her mother pain. Talisa Maegyr was graphically stabbed in her stomach to emphasise that her unborn child was being killed as well. Shae was killed by her ex-boyfriend, focus on him as he mourned the fact that he had to kill her. Ygritte died in Jon’s arms – and now Daenerys does the same. That is a lengthy list of dead female characters dead in ways connected to their familial and/or romantic relationships. This is what we call a pattern. A pattern that repeatedly emphasises that a woman’s death isn’t her own death. It recalls the value she had for others, but not her value in and of herself.

Finally, a note on Dany’s characterisation. Because in amongst all the misogyny, there was also some character writing that would have been shitty whether or not it was also sexist.

Most of Dany’s character has been subject to a giant retcon. Daenerys was a good and caring ruler when it suited the plot, freeing slaves, deciding to fight the Others. And she was a ruthless tyrant when it suited the plot, going from “fighting the Others” to “becoming fantasy Hitler” in the space of two episodes. The wildly divergent and contradictory aspects of this character were not reconciled through any sort of internal journey, but cherry-picked according to the external plot circumstances, the gaps in characterisation covered by “but she’s crazy! Don’t expect consistency!” Until she was evil instead of crazy, here at the end, despite what came before.

(37:16) Shockingly, we’re focusing on Jon as he cries over the body of his girlfriend, who he just murdered in an intimate moment. This moment brought to you by the writers who focused on Tyrion as he killed Shae and on Theon as Sansa was raped. This is also a thing we call a pattern.

Jon hasn’t even had the character writing to sustain this moment. He’s barely said anything but “she’s my queen” all season. He’s barely had a character all season. So the sexism in this entire narrative can’t even be somewhat ameliorated (YMMV) by a successfully-executed tragedy. Jon’s interiority has been pretty well ignored, which means that the conflict here is that “Jon loves Dany, but Dany is very evil.” Ignoring Jon’s interiority here means that this plot point has nothing at all to say about right and wrong or the meaning of family in order to distract us from the misogyny of eeeeeeevil woman loses control and must be killed by her boyfriend for the good of everyone. There’s no garnish of quality execution on this fundamentally messed up plot.

I suppose in some ways that’s a relief. In others…the writers can’t even do wrong, right.

(37:41) Drogon approaches Jon, who’s still crying over Dany’s body.

(38:30) The moment as Drogon nudges at Daenerys’ body is actually sad.

(38:58) Drogon rears back, roaring. Jon’s not going anywhere.

(39:17) Psych! Drogon’s not burning Jon, he’s burning the Iron Throne! If you thought the dragon wings behind Dany were subtle and artful, you haven’t seen anything yet.

(39:42) So Drogon melts down the Iron Throne entirely. Doesn’t do anything to Jon. Leaves Jon alone entirely. Just slags the throne.

(41:06) Then takes Dany’s body and flies the hell out of there. Hopefully to a story with more respect for its female characters. Or, indeed, the concept of characters, characterisation, character development…the list goes on…

(41:51) Cut to Tyrion lying on a floor. It’s a very close shot. We’ve only got his face. We don’t know when this is, or where he is.

(42:17) After nearly thirty seconds of this, Tyrion lifts his head. Nearly thirty seconds!

(42:34) Why we didn’t start the scene here, with Tyrion actually going places, is beyond me. Because the chains around Tyrion’s wrists weren’t enough of a clue that he was still imprisoned, we had to see him lying on the floor for thirty seconds, and then Grey Worm come and get him?

Mind you, it’s a bit of a nostalgia trip. How many more shots of Tyrion walking places are we going to get in this series? We’re nearly at the end here, folks.

(42:50) Or here! Here’s a good place to pick up as well, as Tyrion and Grey Worm arrive places! The Dragonpit, incidentally. Call back to 7.07 with lots of people walking around and not actually doing much plot stuff.

(43:11) Quick pan over the people here, including a bunch of blasts from the past. Aside from the Stark delegation, we’ve got Edmure Tully! Who’s still a guy who exists in this show! Brienne and Davos are here too, mostly because they are named characters, I think! Gendry’s come down and is not sitting next to or otherwise interacting with Arya, because now that Arya rejected his proposal there’s no actual characterisation involved in his appearance. There are a few more randoms. Yara Greyjoy! Someone in Dornish clothes, not that the integrity of the Dornish plot mattered at any point! The gang is all here!

(43:34) “Where’s Jon?” Sansa asks. Pssst, girl, this is a meeting for characters with consequence. Jon’s got no business here.

(43:39) So Jon’s a prisoner, Tyrion’s a prisoner, but Tyrion is here and Jon is not. For reasons that are no more than “because reasons.” Sansa, stop pointing out the inconsistencies, artificialities, and writing decisions made at the direct expense of other characters and logical plotting all involved in giving Tyrion one last monologue! You’re ruining it!

(43:58) Now that Grey Worm points out that the Unsullied, who have had custody of Jon and Tyrion both for an undetermined but presumably multi-week period of time, wish to harm Jon and Tyrion for their actions towards Dany…why haven’t the Unsullied done anything about Jon and Tyrion?

(44:29) Once again we get Grey Worm addressed by the foreign language version of his name, because we are dehumanising the Unsullied and keeping their slave pasts out of view!

(44:44) “The people who used to live [in the Reach] are gone.” I mean, what the fuck do you even say to this? It’s just – there’s no worldbuilding to it. In the entirety of the show, there’s been like one battle in the Reach – the telefrag stomping Jaime delivered last season. That’s it. That’s all. Bam, the people are gone, because that’s what’s most convenient for this particular scene.

(45:11) “You are not here to speak,” Grey Worm yells at Tyrion. Because Tyrion is a prisoner. This is not going to stop anyone, least of all the writers. They have a monologue, they have a favourite character, and this is their last fucking chance.

(45:34) A shot over at the Vale delegation shows us Lord Royce and Sweetrobin Arryn, the latter of whom is also still a guy who exists in this show. Anyhow, Tyrion’s redirected the conversation to the fact that Westeros is currently leaderless.

(45:44) It apparently has not occurred to this group of feudal lords and ladies, all of whom are upset in some way, shape, or form by the King in the North killing Queen Daenerys Targaryen, that they should at some point get around to working out who’s going to be in charge.

This is such unbelievably terrible writing and plotting. After eight seasons of people fighting over power, we’ve got a roomful of people who have been intimately involved in that struggle for power, and they have to be reminded about the leadership vacuum in the only form of government any of them are willing to accept and reminded of their own agency. None of these characters are behaving like people in this scene, informed by their past experiences and their society. They are walking, talking props for Tyrion’s/the writers’ monologue.

It doesn’t matter how good the central monologue is. If every other fucking character in the entire fucking scene has to cease being a character – something in the writing has to change.

If, of course, your aim was to write a good story.

(45:54) “Make your choice, then,” Grey Worm says, referring to ‘who should rule’, and none of these people apparently have any opinions.

(46:14) Still got time for a joke at Edmure’s expense! Sorry, man, you are amongst the many, many characters who the show did real dirty.

(47:04) Sam Tarly, also here because he’s a named character.

(47:18) A full minute gag at Edmure’s expense. Seriously, there’s hardly any plot here.

(47:30) Now that we’ve seen Sam, he speaks up, and proposes another wacky idealistic notion. Democracy, am I right? But Sam’s fine, morally speaking, because he’s not actually going to fightfor it. He’s just going to put it out there as an idea, have it be laughed at, and make no follow up.

(48:24) The first person to be asked if he wants the crown is Tyrion. Why. Again, worldbuilding! The show hasn’t done much discussion of who inherits Tywin’s lands and titles. The title “Lord of Casterly Rock” is going to go unmentioned. We’re still ignoring the fact that Tyrion’s a prisoner accused of treason. No matter how nice it is to see that this group of lords and ladies aren’t going to hold Tyrion’s disability against him, it does run a bit counter to the established prejudice he faced in earlier seasons.

(48:37) The next thing that happens is someone asking Tyrion for his opinion on who should rule. Because again, this is a thing that nobody present has opinions on. “Who should rule?” is one of those obscure points of law that you can only expect a nerd to deep-dive into the archives and come back with some heavily footnoted proposal, and not a pressing and present concern for a group of feudal nobles trying to rebuild in the midst of a devastating winter and following the conclusion of equally devastating years-long war over that exact goddamned question.

It also bears repeating: why are they asking Tyrion? Tyrion, who is a prisoner (Grey Worm totally having forgotten that he’s not here to speak), and whose advice to Dany was spectacularly useless at its best.

This isn’t even Tyrion taking over through force of personality. Literally every other character present has been silenced by the writers to provide Tyrion with this one last chance to monologue.

This has been a recurring problem in this series. Over the course of the show, the showrunners have brought in some incredibly talented people! Yay! There’s some meaty stuff in this series which talented actors can do a lot with! Unfortunately, the showrunners started giving certain actors too much opportunity to show off. They gave us too much of a good thing. The desire to keep, say, Lena Headey or Iwan Rheon around another season opened up plot holes. The screen time given over for Jerome Flynn or Diana Rigg to banter cut from time that could have been used to develop the world and the story. And now, we’re resolving one of the central questions of the series – who should rule – not with a dialogue arising from the developed perspectives of the surviving cast over eight season, but with a monologue from a character and actor the writers have already heavily favoured. At the expense of every other character in the scene, and therefore every other actor.

(48:45) Tyrion confirms that it has been weeks since Dany was killed. Weeks. And nobody has an opinion about who should rule. Nobody’s done anything about it. Complete paralysis. For weeks.

(49:27) “What unites people? […] Stories.” So it’s not just a monologue, it’s an incredibly on-the-nose, self-congratulatory monologue. Is this Tyrion Lannister speaking, or David Benioff and Dan Weiss?

(49:45) “And who has a better story than Bran the Broken?”

Is this a rhetorical question?

Also, “the Broken”, ugh, seriously? Must we?

(49:52) Anyway, Tyrion continues on, proving to us for the purposes of the scene that it was not actually a rhetorical question. Bran’s story in the show as a whole was so compelling that he got booted from an entire season and his supporting cast was killed off or unceremoniously seen off home mid-season. Bran’s characterisation for the last two seasons has been so flat the the character says he doesn’t want anything and this is entirely believable. Bran’s such a presence in the narrative that when Tyrion himself begged Jon to think of what he stood to lose if the Starks opposed Dany, he didn’t even mention Bran.

What have we been told here, and what have we been shown?

(50:30) “Who better to lead us into the future?” Again, is this a rhetorical question? Just because the characters got their brains forcibly shut off doesn’t mean same happened to the viewers.

(50:49) “That is the wheel our queen wanted us to break.” Was it, though? Was it really? I wasn’t hearing much about hereditary monarchies from Dany, and a bit more about people living in peace and freedom. Not much more, but mostly I’ve been putting that down to a failure in the writing to portray Dany’s agenda, rather than the narrative intentionally depicting a character whose agenda was poorly-developed.

(51:01) Somehow, this gets even more outrageous when Tyrion, who people are still listening towithout so much as a squeak of protest, says that rulers will no longer be born but elected by the nobility. Hey, we have someone here familiar with that form of governance – Yara Greyjoy, any opinions? What did you think about the last elected king of the Iron Islands? Edmure, Lord Royce, you compared letting peasants vote on rulers to be like letting animals vote, what do you think about Davos having a say in the monarchy? Or people like the recently-legitimised and ennobled Gendry?

(51:25) Tyrion approaches Bran and here we see Bran’s true worthiness to rule – he doesn’t want to, and he doesn’t care about power. So he’s definitely someone who will be careful with the power he has. We’ve seen this when Bran was so very sensitive in bringing up Sansa’s rape to her, and so very kind when telling Meera to go home because their paths had diverged. He was very careful in using his omniscience in those cases.

(51:37) Bran, who is being nominated to be king apparently against his wishes, sits there and listens to Tyrion’s speech without batting an eyelid. That’s how indifferent to power he is. And apparently how indifferent to human emotion he is.

(51:49) Unbelievably, it gets worse. Bran says, “Why do you think I came all this way?” Which implies that he foresaw these events. Which implies he foresaw the burning of King’s Landing. We don’t know when exactly he foresaw it, but with what we know about the extent of show!Bran’s powers, I think it’s a pretty solid implication that he saw the whole fucking thing.

Which means he a) saw the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people and did nothing to even try and stop it, and b) saw his brother murder someone he loved, from what he believed was genuine need (go with it) and did nothing to even try and stop it. If this is so, how is Bran not an absolutely terrible human being, both on the micro scale (refusing to step in to try and spare his brother pain) and the macro scale (how many people died in King’s Landing)?

Moreover, how is such a fatalist fit to rule? Bran foresees a flood that will strike a populated area and affect a great deal of a harvest. What does he do about it?

(52:02) Tyrion votes for Bran to be king. On what grounds does Tyrion vote? He’s a bound prisoner! Nobody’s even said yes to voting!

(52:14) Sam Tarly starts off the round of inexplicable agreement.

(52:34) It’s interesting how Tyrion’s in the centre of the shot, here. What’s actually being judged here is not Bran’s worth as king, but Tyrion’s proposal.

(53:18) Sansa here says that she still wants Northern independence. Even though it’s her brother on the throne. So again, we see that she’s not after national agency (which the North could probably expect with a Northerner on the throne) but personal agency and national separatism. I’m sympathetic to Sansa’s desire for personal agency. I’m less sympathetic to the separatists who were happy to accept southern and Essosi help when they needed it and unwilling to give back even common courtesy.

We’ve got people from regions with historical and current reasons for desiring independence present – do Yara Greyjoy and the Guy of Dorne have any opinions on Sansa’s actions? Hell, does anyone else here have any opinions on putting a Stark on the throne when the rest of the Starks are taking their bat and ball and going home, leaving the collective family with the perks of rule and none of the responsibilities or shared duties? Grey Worm, any thoughts?

(53:56) No, stop, fuck this “broken” shit. Of all the people who should fucking well understand what it is to be defined by derogatory terms for one’s disability. Tyrion Lannister, folks. Tyrion Lannister.

(54:28) Tyrion is rewarded with the Handship, because this scene was not about Bran. It wasn’t even about Westeros. It was about Tyrion.

(54:55) Now Grey Worm has an opinion.

(55:21) Hello, Jon! Remember when you were relevant? Remember when you were a character? Tyrion comes in with the news that Jon’s been exiled to the Night’s Watch. How poetic, he’s going full circle.

But…what’s changed, here? Jon originally went to the Watch because he felt distanced from his family, acutely aware of how his very existence was an inconvenience to others, intending to make his own place in the world. Now, Jon’s being actually exiled to the Watch, distanced from his own family, because his existence is an inconvenience to others. He still doesn’t have that place in the world that he wanted. At best he’s got a second chance, but man, what a half-assed conclusion.

It also just cements in how fucking irrelevant everything about his character was. What was the point of his parentage? What was the point of his death and resurrection? What was the point of his relationships with his siblings? What was the point of his social class? What was the point of his promotion to king? What was the point of the things he learned beyond the Wall? I’ll have a few final words on some of that in a bit.

(56:02) Grey Worm wanted more than just exile for Jon, but accepted the justice of Jon’s exile. And kept him in a dungeon for weeks beforehand, despite being the man in charge, without harming a hair on his head…why?

(57:39) Once again we’re changing it up and watching Jon Snow walk places.

(58:09) Thankfully, we’re changing up the angles. We see Jon pass a few other Watchmen, we see a shot of Dany’s fleet departing Westeros. We follow Jon on the docks as he passes Dothraki. This is way better walking-places shots, because it’s not just a picture of a man walking, it’s a picture of a man walking through a setting. For these shots, the showrunners have thought about what they wanted to say about the setting as well as the person walking through it.

(58:48) Grey Worm looks down at Jon.

(59:08) The Unsullied are heading to Naath, like Grey Worm promised Missandei. Nice that the Unsullied get faces again, though.

(59:44) Jon’s siblings head out to see him off. First Sansa, who confirms she’s staying in the North. There are hugs as the Winterfell theme plays.

(1:00:41) Then we get confirmation that Arya’s not staying in the north, to the point where she does not expect to see Jon again. This is…aaaaaargh.

(1:00:57) Arya wants to find out what’s west of Westeros. Okay. That’s a thing she’s mentioned once. Compared to her seasons-long effort to get home. I said it earlier, I think the showrunners lost sight of Arya’s motivations. They saw the things she didn’t want – to be forced into various manifestations of patriarchal society, mostly – and didn’t end up tracking the things that the book version of her character very much does want. Namely, her home and her family. Even her desire for revenge is based in how much she wants her home and her family.

Having a character not tethered strongly by motivation is convenient, because you can find an excuse to put her anywhere and make her do anything. Much like Bran! But it comes at the cost of the character. Here at the end, when the Starks are splitting up, it doesn’t feel like their life ambitions are logically leading them to different places, but like the writers are intervening. This decision to go west of Westeros, this thing Arya has mentioned once, doesn’t seem like something she wants so much that she’d forfeit any chance of seeing Jon again.

(1:02:02) Bran tells Jon that he was exactly where he needed to be. I’m reading this as that Jon was needed to kill Dany. That was the point of him as a character in the show. Killing Dany. Everything was in service of killing Dany.

One, this looks like another retcon. Two, man, what a fucking cruel retcon! Destiny’s grand plan here involves them falling in love only for Jon to fucking murder her! And I’m still not seeing how Jon’s death and resurrection was a crucial step in this plan, so it’s not even a quality retcon making sense of disparate plot points.

(1:02:54) Here’s Brienne’s resolution. She’s leafing through the White Book (props to the props folk; you can see the different handwriting from page to page).

(1:03:47) We see Brienne adding to Jaime’s entry. This shows a change in Jaime’s character development and arc from earlier – where back in ASoS, Jaime writes his captures and maiming “in an awkward hand that might have done credit to a six-year-old being taught his first letters,” complete with the acknowledgement that it was Brienne who returned him to King’s Landing, in the show apparently he recounted the first capture and his ransom only. Brienne adds Jaime’s latter-season deeds in the most flattering light before finishing “died protecting his queen.”

Note how this resolution to Brienne’s story is mostly about Jaime. With bonus romanticisation of the Jaime/Cersei relationship. The show never got how messed up that dynamic was.

(1:04:56) Tyrion walks through what’s presumably the Red Keep and approaches the Hand’s chair at the Small Council’s table. It’s great that the Red Keep got rebuilt so fast! Like nothing ever happened. Continuity schmontinuity.

(1:05:29) We’ve got time for one more take of rearranging the chairs. Another case of too much of a good thing. Both in the sense that we get thirty seconds of Tyrion fiddling with the chairs, and in that this joke made its point the first time and the second time.

(1:06:09) The new look Small Council enters to Tyrion at the head of the table. Tyrion’s in charge, here. At this point I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to say that Game of Thrones is centrally a story about Tyrion Lannister’s rise to power. Which is certainly a decision that the adaptation made. Just one that doesn’t look all that much like A Song of Ice and Fire.

(1:06:15) Bronn’s back, re-emerging from his plot hole one final time. Like he never threatened to kill Tyrion at all.

(1:06:17) Sam’s in a maester’s robes. Like he’s even a maester. What about his Watch position? Who knows?

(1:06:27) Sam presents Tyrion with a book entitled “A Song of Ice and Fire.” Hey, that’s the name of the books! Apparently it’s a history of the wars following the death of King Robert. Which is…not actually the A Song of Ice and Fire we’re following, which is about a bit more than the War of Five Kings.

(1:08:04) No word of Drogon. So Bran leaves the business of ruling to Tyrion while he goes looking for dragons. He wasn’t kidding about not caring about power. This is getting off to a great start that will in no way result in the same Robert Baratheon-y indifference to running the country.

(1:08:22) Confirmation that Pod was knighted and is now a member of the Kingsguard, just tying up these loose ends.

(1:08:57) A bit of expositing about Bronn’s new title. He is indeed the Lord of Highgarden. Master of Coin, too. Makes sense, makes sense. Not.

(1:09:52) We back out of the meeting as the new Small Council starts on solving the problems of the realm (including its lack of brothels), for some bizarre reason everyone referring to themselves in the third person.

(1:10:13) The final line of dialogue in the entire series is “I once brought a jackass and a honeycomb into a brothel.” Call back! In the same fine taste as so much of the dialogue in this show. And we never do get to hear the punchline. (He asked for someone to lick honey off his ass.)

(1:10:19) Cut to Jon arriving at the Wall. There’s a bit of rubble around, but the order’s still functioning, the Wall’s still there. Where’s the fundamental change the events of the series wrought on the setting?

(1:11:03) Jon reunites with his truest friend, Tormund. Speaking of, it’s nice that someone has a buddy.

(1:11:37) Time for Ramin Djawadi’s last hurrah. It’s a Stark montage, as Jon, Sansa and Arya get ready to set out on their next adventures. I think there’s a significant structural change in evidence from the books here. In the books, Sansa, Arya and Bran are more closely in parallel. Jon’s got strong thematic connections to them, of course, but his primary parallels are with Dany.

Which isn’t necessarily a bad change until you recall how badly the show’s treated Dany. And how anemic the writing for Jon was, too.

What this final montage also emphasises is the atomisation of the Stark family, and that, that is fucking sad. This is not a montage of the Starks. This is a montage of Jon, Arya, and Sansa, starting their permanently separate lives.

Again, compared to the books, the love the Starks have for each other is one of the central themes running through their PoVs. The Starks love each other. The Starks love their home. It is grounding and centralising and helps bring out the best in each of them. This ending, where apparently these three get what they want at the cost of those familial relationships – it seems almost backwards. I’m not sure the book versions of these characters could get what they wanted out of life if it meant sacrificing the notion of their family unit.

It’s different, and it’s not a different I prefer. I have thought for a long time that the show did not show the bonds between the Starks well. I’m not surprised at the ending of the series those bonds are severed altogether.

Bran? Who’s Bran? Is he part of the family?

(1:13:40) What. Jon is paying attention to his direwolf. This is madness.

(1:14:45) It makes me very sad how alone Sansa is in this shot as she’s crowned queen. Show!Sansa isn’t a nice person by any means, but for the sake of her book counterpart…

(1:15:15) As Jon helps lead the Free Folk back north past the Wall, you can see grass starting to poke through the snow cover. The show finishes with him riding into a northern forest.

I asked this a bit more than a year ago, but what was the point of all this? What changed? I touched on it with Jon, but what is the difference in the setting? Some borders got rearranged, a different king’s on the throne, but the system remains fundamentally the same. The game of thrones goes on. The aspects of the plot that were supposed to be agents of major change, worthy of an eight-season series – Dany and her dragons, the Free Folk moving south, the Others– all got dealt with and removed from the ending with nice neat little bows and nice neat little deaths.

All that story and all it did was destroy a family.

Thus ends the recap, but I am trying to work on a wrap-up essay. A bit more looking at the forest instead of the trees, and trying to work out where the series went so, so badly wrong.

#anti got #fine toothed comb edition #cw: violence #cw: rape mention #season eight #long episode long post long face

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