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ladystoneboobs · 1 month

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no of fence to jon snow fans who for some reason care about his exact age, but these discussions just annoy me no end. not only bc there's no way any weirwood flashbacks bran has to rhaegar/lyanna will come with time/datestamps, but also bc there's always comments like this:

SEVERAL turns of the moon (ie, months)?! have these people never seen a human baby before or just have no concept of their ages? even if we take into account travel time from the toj to wf, meaning jon was not a newborn too fresh out the oven when catelyn and robb arrived, there's still a difference between a newborn and a 3mo and an even bigger difference between those infants and an older baby 5-7mo. there's very good reasons these lines were cut. whatever birthdates can be worked out internally for jon and robb from when they're first mentioned as 15 and 16 don't matter in the end, bc grrm doesn't care about a consistent timeline and the actual text of catelyn's pov and ned's convo with robert about cheating on her should outweigh any guesstimates about jon's official nameday wrt robb's. catelyn may not have cared for jon, but she would sure as hell have noticed his nameday if it came before robb's and made him ned's firstborn. if jon's birthday canonically came before robb's then either ned's cover story would not involve adultery (not impossible for him to sire a bastard before his wedding), or he'd just give jon a new nameday along with his new name to fit the adultery lie. it makes no sense for him to lie about one and not the other, undermining the big lie with a little public clue of his story not adding up. whatever else she was as a stepmother, cat wasn't stupid and a bastard who was actually the eldest son being raised alongside her trueborn heir could be an even bigger insult than whether he was born of adultery or not.

BUT, the unknowability of jon's true birthday is not the only reason this annoys me, it's bc this is all based on the assumption that jon must be older since rhaegar/lyanna ran off together before ned married cat, as if both boys must have been conceived asap as robb canonically was when his parents consummated their marriage. and that's not how human reproduction works! even if you don't understand how fast babies grow in the first year, you should know that people who get pregnant do so through ovulation cycles and a lucky sperm finding an egg and all that, not just immediately getting knocked up as soon as one has p-in-v sex for the first time. not unless you only know mean girls sex ed where if you have sex you will get pregnant and die. (even tho lyanna did die, there's plenty of canon examples where pregnancy did not lead straight to death. also examples of people who did not get pregnant right away and even some who are/were sexually active and childless without always having moon tea on hand.) we can't know how long lyanna was having sex before that sperm+egg match happened or even how long she was with rhaegar before losing her technical virginity. if they were married, doesn't it make sense to think they didn't consummate their relationship until the wedding night either? that's the only leverage there is to ensure a status as wife rather than just mistress.

and while i just said grrm doesn't care about exact timelines and a lot is still foggy surrounding the rebellion and esp rhaegar, there is one timemarker wrt robert's rebellion he voluntarily threw in, time and time again: that stannis was besieged at storm's end for almost a whole year. that siege, which mind you, did not match the duration of the entire war. it only started after robert won his battles at gulltown and summerhall, returned to storm's end, and then went out and lost the battle of ashford, leaving his homeland open to the reachermen. the same siege which only ended when ned made a detour there after the sack of king's landing, before going to the toj. even if lyanna may not have given birth that exact day ned found her, she could only be waiting in that bloody bed for weeks at the most, not months. so if rhaegar knocked her up the very same night he carried her off and jon was still a newborn when ned found her after the siege of storm's end had ended, wouldn't that mean lyanna was pregnant for well over a year? that's not how human pregnancy works either! so, maybe that's proof that jon and robb, whichever order they were actually born in, were actually very close in age as babies, much closer than if they were both conceived asap.

and really, jon's actual birthdate does not matter imho, when he was raised not just as the bastard to robb's trueborn heir, but with robb also known by catelyn and the world as ned's firstborn (which he was, in any case, as jon was ned's nephew by birth). what difference could a birthdate before robb's make (even were there some means of discovery) after ned, cat, and robb are all dead? if one is looking only at his birth parents then he's only a firstborn child on lyanna's side, but definitely a second son on rhaegar's side. maybe he was always meant to be a second son with a not much older half-brother! even if the aegon fka young griff is not in fact rhaegar's son, he'll still be known as aegon vi targaryen, meaning jon will never be known as any father's elder son. if i may reference mean girls again, it's not going to happen.

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #asoiaf meta #robb stark #jonathan snowflake starkgaryen #i want him to succeed me as king in the north #jon snow #ned stark #lyanna stark #like this isn't prompted by anyone except that reddit post and its comments this has just annoyed me for so long #that's why i made that show!robb/show!jon coming of age gifset years ago bc narratively jon is always a second son #bc robb did everything first as elder bro and the only milestones jon will hit first will be the those robb can't since he's dead for good #(obviously starting with jon being first male stark to be brought back from the dead)#not that everyone interested in this debate thinks this way but it just feels tied to the idea of jon being a trueborn heir #not only was he never a bastard he was an eldest boy! eldest surviving boy with those pesky half-dornish sibs gone! point missed.#sorry i just dont think grrm means for a targ restoration with king jon any more than fake eldest boy kendall roy could win his succession #(c)lsb #i had to look up all the quotes on the big storm's end siege bc it makes me feel like i'm taking crazy pills #thinking what abt stannis starving for a year while others are like we just can't know how long rr was. was it even 9mons?#like yeah lollys's pregnancy doesn't add up but bc grrm really slowed the tl down postacok prob w/o really thinking #thats diff from repeatedly saying something lasted almost a year when he didn't have to give such a timeframe!

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wrixie · 3 months

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Baby days in Copperdale <3

#sugar needs extra attention because she's sad everytime cookie hits a milestone ;-;#ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #simblr #c #the joy of life challenge #tjolc

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cocksley-and-catapult · 5 months

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hi. idk if you want to know this or not but i have seen porn of your characters. i feel like thats a milestone for every artist.

#milestone sure is a word for it #c&c asks

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extremelyputridfishbreath · 6 months

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The moving finger writes And having writ, moves on You can't hold back the clock It just ticks on and on

The moving finger writes And having writ, moves on So treasure memories For what is gone is gone

And though you may sweat and strife Don't you know it's great just to be alive? So…

Make every moment count Rejoice with every dawn The moving finger writes And having writ, moves on.

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a-salmon-good-time · 10 months

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Thank you so much everyone for making this blog reach 350+ followers!!!!

Here's Frank and Sammy to celebrate the new follower milestone!

#follower milestone #general post #a salmon good time!#fanart #salmon run #splatoon 3 #frank c hawk #sammy finn #cohock #chum #don bluth style

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uwmspeccoll · 1 year

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Milestone Monday

On this day, April 3 in 1895, the trial in the libel case brought by Oscar Wilde began, ultimately resulting in his imprisonment on charges of homosexuality. Wilde brought the suit against the Marquess of Queensberry who, angered by Wilde’s apparent ongoing homosexual relationship with the Marquess’s son Alfred Douglas, had publicly accused Wilde of sodomy. Wilde dropped the suit, however, after being confronted by the possibility of witnesses who could potentially prove the Marquess’s accusation. After winning a counterclaim against Wilde that left the writer bankrupt, the Marquess of Queensberry then presented evidence against him, and on April 6, 1895 Wilde was arrested on charges of "gross indecency," a coded term for homosexual acts. He was convicted on May 25, 1895 and sentenced to two years hard labor. Much of his sentence was spent at Reading Gaol, where he was addressed and identified only as "C.3.3" – the occupant of the third cell on the third floor of C ward. The harsh incarceration broke his health and eventually led to his death in 1900.

After his release, Wilde wrote the long poem The Ballad of Reading Gaol, which was published in London by Leonard Smithers on February 13,1898 under the name "C.3.3." While in prison, Wilde wrote a long letter to Alfred Douglas that was not delivered. It recounts their relationship and extravagant lifestyle, as well as Wilde’s spiritual transformation during his imprisonment. Wilde entrusted the manuscript to his loyal friend and sometimes-lover Robert Ross, who had it published after Wilde’s death by Methuen and Co. in 1905, giving it the title "De Profundis" (”Out of the depths”) from Psalm 130.

To commemorate this milestone, we present the title page from our first edition copy of The Ballad of Reading Gaol, limited to an edition of 800 copies on handmade paper; the title page and cover of our first edition of De Profundis, with the gilt device of a bird leaving a circle of bars designed by Wilde’s friend Charles Ricketts; and illustrations by the designer and artist John Vassos for an illustrated edition of The Ballad of Reading Gaol published in New York by E. P. Dutton & Co. in 1928.

View more posts of works by Oscar Wilde.

View more Milestone Monday posts.

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shivunin · 6 months

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In the Quiet Dark

Zevran/Arianwen Tabris | 1,633 Words | M | CW: Mild/implied sexual content

I originally started writing this to go with this piece I commissioned from pinayelf (thank you again!) but I did not finish it in time to post them together. It may be a little late, but here they are in all their messy, sharp glory c:

Zevran sat on the other side of the campfire from Arianwen.

She knew this without looking, just as she had known approximately where he was all day. It had been a traveling day, uneventful, and they’d made their way through the Brecilian’s outskirts with little trouble. This annoyed her almost as much as her new awareness of Zevran did, for she would have dearly loved the distraction of a fight.

Instead, she…itched.

Nowhere in particular. Under her skin, perhaps; she did not know. She knew only that she had gone a very long time untouched and uncaring and now she could feel every inch of her skin where he was presently not in contact with it. There had been some barrier, perhaps, some veneer that had kept her from noticing such things. Now, she could not stop feeling the precise distance between them. Every scuff of his boots grated against her skin, every laugh felt pressed directly into her eardrums, and whenever she caught his eyes—

“Are you alright?” Alistair murmured next to her. Tabris dropped her fork, grimacing, and set the plate aside. It clattered in indignation against a loose rock and fell silent sooner than she would have liked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been scraping your fork against the plate there for minutes on end. Just thought I’d—don’t give me that look! I’m only asking.”

Arianwen stopped glaring at him and glared at the fire instead, which was a poor replacement for looking across it at Zevran.

All sorts of people lay together all the time and still the world went on turning. It was nothing; ought to be nothing important. She certainly shouldn’t feel any different than she had when she’d woken up yesterday. Wen ran sharp nails over her forearm, but it made little difference; this wasn’t that sort of itch.

“Ugh,” she said, slinging her leg over the other side of the log and walking away without any more farewell than that. She didn’t have the words; had left them all behind in Zevran’s tent the night before, it would seem.

Her own tent was dark and cool, a welcome contrast to the fire outside. When the flap of fabric fell closed behind her, Wen pulled the tie loose from her braid and combed the plait to loose waves with harsh fingers. Disarming took some time, her knife belt set less neatly in its place than usual, the knives in her boots cast aside with an equal lack of care. Her armor fell into a dark corner readily enough when she was done. She retrieved her final dagger from it the moment before it thudded against the bottom of her tent. Wen tucked the scabbard into her waistband and loosened the ties of her tunic, as if doing so would help her breathe more easily.

She had just cleared her plate, but she was hungry. She needed to run, to climb, to fight. She wanted blood, the thrill of battle, wanted to bite into—

“Warden?’

Wen hissed between her teeth before she could stop herself, the exhale of relief whistling and sharp instead of the soft thing she supposed it ought to be.

“You seemed as if you may want company,” Zevran said, his voice low. “Do you?”

“Yes,” she said, short and clipped.

Firelight painted her tent with fingers of gold and red when he ducked inside, but when the fabric fell again the two of them were left in near-complete darkness.

Touch me, she thought, and leave. Her hands flexed until they ached, then curled into fists at her sides.

“Why did you come?” she asked him.

The words felt almost detached from her, for they were nowhere near the things she wanted to say instead.

A pause. She could almost feel him weighing his answer.

“Because,” he said at last, the words very slow, “I wanted to.”

She didn’t see him move, but she felt his callused fingertips when they trailed along her forearm. For a moment, she thought she might cry out at even so little contact. All day, she had been thinking of this and now—it was like an itch. She had been scratching at the absence of him all day and now she had finally dug her nails in deep enough to find relief, but too deeply for it not to hurt a little.

Arianwen pressed her hand over his, deepening the contact and stopping the gentle motion at once.

“Then stay,” she said.

When she breathed in, the air was sharp and too much. She wanted; she wanted far more than was safe. Knowing that she could have this almost made it worse—because who was she, to want to be touched? Who was she, that she couldn’t stand knowing she’d already forgotten the way his bare skin felt under her hands, the precise texture of his hair—who was she? She did not know.

A stranger, she thought.

“If you’d like,” she finished, because even now she would not say please, and he laughed somewhere before her in the dark.

“Yes, I think I would,” Zevran said. When he touched her hair, he was gentler with it than she’d been, the touch a caress instead of a rebuke.

“I have never seen it loose before,” he murmured.

His breath skimmed her cheek–too close. Not close enough.

“You still haven’t.”

“I did for a moment—in the light,” he told her. Wen let go of his other hand and he found her jaw with it instead. His palms were warm and rough and perfect. She vowed never to tell him so and pressed her cheek against his hand instead.

“How lovely you are, mi vida,” he went on.

His lips pressed against her ear, moving so slightly that she almost didn’t feel it at all. Wen reached between them and found the leather tie in his own hair. It came loose with little effort, but the tug it took to free his braids seemed somehow momentous. She had half-undressed him last night, but she had been too distracted then to think of doing this. It felt…intimate, somehow, as Zevran seeing her hair unbound had felt intimate.

“More,” she said, and he laughed again.

When he answered her, he murmured directly into her ear.

“More flattery? I am sure that I can think of a few such things to say, my dearest Warden, but I did not think you were the t—”

“No,” she said, impatient. When she turned them both and tripped him onto her bedroll, he fell so easily that he must have done so on purpose. Arianwen did not care. She cared only that she could finally feel him pressed against her at last. A relief, though it was relief that did not lessen the need at all.

“More,” she told him again, and caught his laughter on her tongue when she pressed her mouth to his. Zevran felt just as good as she remembered—better, perhaps, because she had already begun to doubt her own memory. He moved with her whenever she shifted, tilting his head when she angled hers, tucking his fingers beneath her collar when her fingers trailed across his cheekbone.

“Impatient,” he murmured when she abandoned his mouth in favor of his neck, his voice low and breathless. Wen grunted in response and nipped at the warm skin there. His pulse thrummed against her mouth, frantic as her own heartbeat and twice as precious. She traced the skin with her tongue when she was finished, soothing the small hurt she’d set against his skin.

“Perhaps I am impatient, too,” he said. She did not know how he had grown so skilled at kissing her in the dark when he had only a night’s practice at it. She hovered on a dagger’s edge, much as she had the night before; unlike the night before, she knew she would not run from this. When it was almost too much to bear, she twisted a lock of his hair between her fingers and found herself anchored again.

Zevran’s hand slipped lower, lower down her back. The knife she’d tucked behind her shifted slightly.

“You should be more careful,” he said between kisses. “Leaving your blades where anybody can find them. Someone dangerous could take it, yes?”

Wen nudged his nose with hers, searching in the dark for what little she could see of his face. The faint light flashed in his eyes, there and gone in a heartbeat.

“But not you,” she said.

After a moment, he squeezed her hip. His hand slid away from the knife, tracing the length of her spine instead.

“Not me, no,” he agreed. She could feel his voice now as much as she had felt him not touching her earlier. She wanted his words and wanted them to stop in equal measure, but silence was the easy choice. It had always been kinder to her.

Wen leaned forward to kiss him again. If she shut her eyes very tightly, she could feel his body wherever it touched hers, could focus more completely on his hair wrapped around her fingers, on his fingernails where they dragged lightly against the base of her skull.

If she had left them open, she might have seen the way he looked at her all the while—might have known that he watched her as intently as she had not watched him before.

In fact—she did not think of her dagger at all.

But this was not something she was ready to see. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut as tight as they could go.

Zevran rolled her onto her back several minutes later, the motion as natural and obvious as the moon rising somewhere outside her tent. When he set her dagger to the side, Arianwen neither lifted it from the blanket nor drew it from its sheath.

#zevwarden #zevran arainai #arianwen tabris #warden tabris #da fic #shivunin scrivening #zevwen #okay!!! this is the first of three as my little private celebration of a kudo milestone #but i fear the other two will have to wait for tomorrow! c:#feelings are always so intense to wen that it is a pleasure and a challenge to write her #(but more the former than the latter!)

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myreygn · 8 months

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Hey Rey! Congrats on the 500 milestone!!! Here's to many more coming your way!

This event is so lovely! If it's alright- I'd like to order a bouquet of Heliotrope, Holly, and Calla Lily with green ribbons and a wooden butterfly please :3

Address: Demon Slayer

Recipient: Sanegiyuu

I'm excited to see where you go with this (If you want to of course- if not I'm still wishing you a lovely event!) Please take your time and happy writing! <3 Thank you so much!

ahh thank you so much squiggily!! i had a lot of fun with your order (which should be obvious from the way ~500 words have turned into ~700 whoopsie) and i hope you like it!

slight spoiler warning for demon slayer as it's set post canon

❁✧✿✧❁

No one has lived in the house for years and it shows. Sanemi isn’t sure whether he should be glad that most of it has been left untouched by strangers or sad to see it in such ruins. Though as his gaze wanders over the wall and falls onto the door hanging in the frame, remaining ripped to shreds even after all this time, an overwhelming sorrow overcomes him and he feels his throat clog up with tears. So the latter it is.

Walking across the rubble and dirt of twelve years feels like a fever dream. Coughing at the dust of twelve years as he brushes over the bed sheets and revealing the twelve year old blood stains in the process makes him feel nauseous. His throat is starting to hurt.

A hand carefully takes his and squeezes it softly. It’s cold, icy almost, but that’s just the way Giyuu’s hands always are and Sanemi all but clings to the one thing in here that’s familiar yet not painful to touch. The first sobs start to shake him.

“It’s okay.” Giyuu’s voice is so soft and his hands are so cold and he’s so there, he’s here with him and it’s not nearly enough to fill the void of all the people that should be here but aren’t. It’s somewhat of a start though. And besides, Sanemi is used to the void. It’s been following him for years. Although it’s never felt so heavy.

“Hey, just breathe, please.”

Right, breathing. He tries his best to follow the instruction and closes his eyes to focus. Big mistake. The images that flood his brain are anything but beneficial to him calming down; his mother, his siblings, the bed sheets are clean of blood, the door is intact and there are no graves in the backyard a ten year old boy dug with his bare hands.

An arm wraps around him and pulls him in, then Sanemi curls up against Giyuu’s chest and starts bawling. He’s been crying so much these past few days, weeks, months and yet it still feels like dams are breaking. It’s as liberating as it’s devastating and Sanemi can’t tell how long it takes for him to calm down. All he knows is that Giyuu’s hand steadily strokes his back all the way through and once his tears have stopped flowing, all Sanemi can do is mutter a weak Thank you. His boyfriend hums softly.

“It must’ve been lovely.”

“What?”

“Your home. Feels like a place people would’ve been happy to live at.” Giyuu takes his hand off Sanemi’s back for a second to point at something on the floor.

The former wind pillar sits up, squinting to make out what it is. A piece of flower embroidery. He remembers this very specific embroidery on one of the shelves, placed there long before his birth and somehow always shining white, even though he had never seen his mother wash it. And although it’s as gray as all the other formerly white things now, the flowers are still clearly visible. Before he can grab it, he feels Giyuu tug on his sleeve.

“Look, matching plants.”

Sanemi’s breath hitches. A sprout pokes through the splintered wood of the floor and now that he sees it, he has now idea how he could ever not see it. It seems so misplaced, so hopeless, yet somehow so right- he feels his mouth stretch into a soft smile and there’s Giyuu’s hand on his back again, grounding him.

“Urokodaki-sensei told me nothing could ever blossom in a place where no love is stored.”

“That’s cheesy.”

“It’s true.”

Sanemi doesn’t respond, instead just quietly watches the sprout and imagines the hardships it went through to get this far up. Maybe Giyuu is right. He kind of wishes he had gone back home earlier, though deep down he knows that he wouldn’t have been able to recognize the love that’s stored here. To be honest, it still doesn’t feel like a loving home, not the way Giyuu described it. But that’s okay. Maybe, someday, they’d build a new one together.

❁✧✿✧❁

[send in an order for the event]

#rey writes #the flower shop #milestone event #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #hurt/comfort #h/c #sanemi shinazugawa #shinazugawa sanemi #giyuu tomioka #tomioka giyuu #sanegiyuu #sanegiyuu hurt/comfort #demon slayer manga spoilers #rey's moots #squiggily 💙

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