#|| threads ||

[nicholaslannisters]

setting: flashback. winterstown, the north. during house stark's winter games, some time prior to the coronation of jaehaerys ii, the captain of the cavalry and his elite battalion of knights have taken short leave. competing in the name of house lannister, they make camp near a tavern. after a long day of competition, the many competitors, travelers, and game fans have taken to drinking, eating, and celebrating the loses and victories. snow falls thickly outside. @anya-snow

The last time he'd been in a tavern, it hadn't gone well. Cheeky Laena had dared to talk to a woodswitch—a crumbling old woman with black teeth and a lazy eye that had sent a curling sensation twisting in his stomach. Though he'd done all he could to hide the blanche of his gold-kissed skin, the captain had... well, hadn't. He'd prayed to The Warrior that he might smite her where she stood, and take the smell with him. Nicholas Lannister could face down screaming cavalry and the clash of steel. He was skilled in horseback and war. He was not skilled in evading batty old women who smelled like... what? Prophecy and death, aging skin and decaying... something. Filth. As he drank heavily from a mug of brown ale, he felt his skin crawl. No, there would be none of that.

Earlier this evening, though, when Nicholas had prayed to The Warrior? It was to bless him in competition the following morning, and then give him the strength to down at least four more casks of ale. He was drunk -- a large man of equally large reputation, so the dark northern ale didn't completely stifle him, but still the world still buzzed in his ears. The tavern was overflowing, the doors constantly opening and closing to let people in and out. But, the snowy wind was welcomed -- the sheer number of people was as stifling as the roaring fires. People drank, people swayed, they chanted and sang. Men as large as he would pat him on the back, shake him by the shoulder -- and Nicholas and his battalion had partaken in drinking games. The sheer number of foreign knights and jousting lords, hedge fighters and northmen. So when his eyes landed on her, there -- across the room -- he was blinking in drunken surprise. And then he was smiling -- in such a way that his pale green eyes sparkled with boyish mischief. He stood, turning so that she would not see him, and lifted his large mug to drain it dry. "Another round?" Nicholas said to his men when he finished, and they cheered. Off he went to the bar keep, sending a wench in the direction of their table. But he did not return, his steps -- more sluggish than normal, but still deliberate and calculated -- ducking around tables, using tavern patrons to block his large frame. Finally, he came up behind her. And the lion sprung. Suddenly, and without warning. Nicholas hooked his hand around her waist, yanking her backwards away from the edge of the drunken, swaying crowd. In the same motion, he spun her toward his chest, backing her into a darkened, abandoned corner. The party had moved toward the lutist, and singing had begun. His hand stayed firmly planted on her waist as her back hit the wall, and like he had in Oldtown, used the other to pin both of her wrists above her head. His grip was different, now -- it was not life or death, more as if he was...playful.

But Nicholas' grin was drunken as he looked down at her. Small thing, wasn't she? Not drunk, but still -- wide, and filled with a twist of sick humor pulled forth by the inhibitions. His body, lazily leaning forward, frame dwarfing her anew. Nicholas' words were slow, drawled. Rasped from drink and playing at war, yet still held a chuckle within them. "Fancy meeting you here."

#oop #marking this as 03 since yours is 02 #|| flashback || #|| threads -- the winter games || #|| threads -- the north || #|| threads -- winterstown || #|| threads -- anya 03 || #|| threads ||

[casimirtully]

setting: a secret force of 100 Second Sons have quietly departed Riverrun the night of The Fifth Feast, with plans to attack The Quiet Isle following night. That morning, before The Sixth Feast, King Casimir has come to the Mooton quarters to speak to Jalabhar privately about the idea of a covert assignment while they await the impending bloodshed…

@jalabharmooton

he is anxious. family murdered, and though he feels the loss, he knows it is nothing compared to what the lord of maidenpool feels.

while the women closest to casimir live, those closest to jalabhar no longer do. he’ll never forget the look on his face when he told him.

“there are many things we need to speak on,” he says from across the table. “and we will. all of it.” how do you apologize? for this?

“but i wish for you to get your justice. your revenge — whatever payment the memory of your daughters demand.”

he pauses, eyebrows drawing together. "at the quiet isle, i can attack cleanly. openly. the ships that test the blockade.” on his terms, on his land, where they made the rules. but to avoid outright war, he couldn’t risk sending his men against a country with a slave army.

“…and when the fire of slaughter burns, shadows grow long. emiliee’s letters — they had names… i want them paranoid. i want them to think they’re next. until the price is repaid.” he looks at him, long. “what would that entail?”

#oop #|| threads -- jalabhar 04 || #i think its 4 but all my tags are qo so it could be three too #|| threads -- the seven winter feasts || #|| threads -- riverrun || #|| threads ||

[jaehaeraxtargaryen]

setting: the crownlands, king's landing. the great hall of the red keep, during one of the coronation feasts. the lost princess speaks with a lady of the clover folk after seeing her in the crowd with a certain white knight... @briannabrackens

The feeling came as a surprise to Jaehaera, as she'd watched the dark haired beauty speak to her white knight. It wasn't one she often felt -- she was quite sure she'd never felt it -- and it made her... what did it make her feel?

It was a feeling akin to watching someone play with her favorite puzzle, when she had been patiently waiting and looking forward to solving it all day. Or, perhaps someone had used all her favorite paint, and her chest filled with the heavy feeling of... what?

...no. But that didn't feel right. Not that feeling. Because Garrick Cargyll was not a toy, or a puzzle to be solved. He was her friend -- her dear protector. The only person in this world that understood her, save for her brothers. Understood her, at times, even in ways that they could not. Her fear, and hopelessness. And Jaehaera understood his -- fingers grazing, then lost to a sea of screaming people. The birds fell, and the sea boiled. The sky burns, the hawk still flies -- but the search for his flock is foiled.

Jaehaera blinked, hard. It wasn't that feeling, either. The phoenix had risen. The princess wasn't going to lose her knight again. He was High Commander -- he was here, and so was Viserys, and Jaehaerys, and the dragons.

Was that been the feeling? Fear of loosing him again? She knew she wouldn't -- so why had him speaking to the woman made her feel...

Feel what?

She was determined to figure it out.

"You needn't be so sad, my lady," she said on a sigh as she found her way to the dark beauty, dreamy expression kind despite the conflict growing within her cloudy head. There was an aura about the other woman -- a sort of sorrow that clung like a sheen over her milky skin. It was almost as if Jaehaera wasn't talking at all to the dark beauty -- but the strange thing that settled around her, that wasn't actually a thing at all. "Nothing ever happens the same way twice."

But then she was speaking again -- this time, unmistakably to the dark haired woman, as if she hadn't even said anything before. "Are you friends?" She asked, her head tilting, bird-like. "I haven't had the chance to meet many of Lord Garrick's friends."

She hadn't had the chance to meet much of anybody -- between Aunt Rhaenyra imprisoning her, Daenaerys lying to her. Isolating her. Silver bird in a silver cage, pinioned wings and broken things.

Haera wanted to know -- but why did she want to know? What did it matter? Why had speaking with Garrick caused it? She could ask Jaehaerys, but... he was off speaking with his new subjects, kingly and bright and radiant. She wouldn't bother him, not on his great day -- though she longed to stay by his side, and Garrick's by her's.

"I -- oh." A deep blush ripened upon her porcelain cheeks. She'd been learning -- how to conduct herself, but when one lived in a million other worlds, the rules of this world often slipped away. "I am Princess Jaehaera. I hope you feel most welcomed here, lady...?"

She trailed off, blush furthering as she realized she hadn't even asked the other woman's name. Her fingers twitched, and for a moment, she was suddenly uneasy.

#haera its JEALOUSY #haera is actualy like wait you might be one of the presstiest humans ive ever seen sdfghjk #|| threads -- brianna 01 || #|| threads -- the coronation of jaehaerys ii || #|| threads -- the red keep || #|| threads || #sdfghjkl

[vhaenessavelaryon]

setting: after the kingdom's depart the reach. an arena belonging to house qoherys, during one of a few calm weeks prior to jaehaerys claiming the iron throne. @bloodfcrblood

"If only I'd gotten to keep the one your parents gifted me for my name day," The Siren purred, recalling when she'd turned eight and ten. Her parents had found it ludicrous -- distasteful -- what with her father constant desire to stay close to the throne. The one that had nearly been her mother's. Appearances, Vhanessa.

As if her appearance had ever been the issue.

She and Saella watched a group of warriors train in an elaborate arena from a spectators balcony. They occupied main box, of course, though the stands themselves were empty. The two girls had the detectible view below entirely to themselves, sipping on sparkling Reachling and eating Dornish oranges. And a view it was -- large, and oiled, and bronzed. The warriors sparred with one another, swords and fists caring not if it was training or a real game.

"I'd have had such fun." Pausing, she looked over at her friend from where she lounged, grin curling her red painted lips. "Being a sponsor, of course." The Valyrian Houses all knew what the Qoherys family dealt in, truly. But sponsor was a better term for the servants that attended them. Lest they open their poor mouths and say things they shouldn't.

"Imagine how i could -- oh! There it is!" Vhaenessa's words are cut off by a sharp cry of excitement, her lithe frame lifting out of her seat with her wine raised high over her head as a particularly handsome warrior slammed his fist across another's jaw. There was a spray of blood, and Vhaenessa found herself wooping aloud. "You can hit harder than that, can't you?!" She called down. "Hit him again!"

#im so unsure of where this is going on my mental timeline so its vague #just some girl time #also this gif is SO FUNNY TO ME IM SORRY #vhae gambles on gladiator fights #|| threads -- saella 01 || #|| threads ||

[perditus]

|| @shieldedxlight-- Rody (Private Muse)

Despite how intertwined their lives were now, it was rare that Rody ventured all the way to the hero's office. It was out of his way and the winged hero wasn't readily available. Roro and Lala had practically begged him to take them along, but they had school and he cared more for their future. So he left them behind and took a train to his destination, stretching his arms as he exited out onto the streets and made his way to the agency.

" Jeez, it's so busy" he grumbled, Pino letting out the tiniest sigh of agreement as the duo moved through the crowds. Eventually, he made his way to the agency, entering the building calmly before pausing at a familiar sight.

" Eh? What're doing all the way out here on a school day?"

Ignoring that he was ALSO out there on a school day.

#|| p || Rody Soul #|| threads || #|| closed starters ||

[soracities]

"Absolutely no one comes to save us but us."

Ismatu Gwendolyn, "you've been traumatized into hating reading (and it makes you easier to oppress)", from Threadings, on Substack [ID'd]

#q #lit #quotes #typography #essays and articles #id included #ismatu gwendolyn #youve been traumatized into hating reading and it makes you easier to oppress #threadings #m #x

[itsliyahhbih]

Fat nuggets’ thread 🩷🖤

#fat nuggets #the baby #hazbin angel dust #angel dust #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #so cute #protect him at all costs #sir pentious #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust #just look at him #so cuteeee #thread

[troythecatfish]

#threads #threads app #threads account #threads an instagram app #celebrity news #robin williams #zelda williams #ai #ai generated #aiartisnotart #ai is a plague #ai issues #ai is not art #ai is scary #ai is dangerous #ai is theft #ai is stupid #support human artists #disturbing #terrifying #unsettling #actors strike #sag afra strike #workers #workers rights #workers strike #support unions #voice actors #actors #actor

[faranae]

I love Reddit sometimes.

#reddit stuff #screenshot #uncaptioned #This whole thread is gold

[willofasherah]

seeing everyone just mindlessly sign up for threads despite all the clear warning signs feels like I’m living in Sailor Moon or a magical girl anime episode where the Monster of the Day just set up shop over night and their product is literally draining your lifeforce for the Dark Kingdom but people keep going there

#only there's not even a hot monster girl involved #just privacy leaks and the right wing #threads #twitter #ame post

[nicholaslannisters]

setting: at one of the chariot races during king jaehaerys' 100 day of games, nicholas has come out as this round's victor against a series of other noble lords who have taken up the sport in their past time. @ameriebanefort

he circles the arena once, twice, sweat on his skin and victory in his blood. there is cheering, and roars. the win thrums in him. soon, he is stepping out of the chariot, and his arm is being thrown up. another storm of cheering, stomping. he talks with the spectators for a time, ever the charmer, but eventually finds his way to a group of ladies who have come to giggle and marvel at the spectacle. below, in the sand, unlike when the gladiators race. here, they are safe, and can pet horses before the race starts a new. he recognizes some of them quickly -- ladies of his queen, faces he is familiar with. they laugh and stroke a white horse being set to the chariot, who races soon, bedecked in valyrian equine armor. one lady does not seem as interested as her giggling peers. perhaps he is wrong -- but he finds himself asking with an easy, lazy smile. "have you seen chariot racing before, my lady?"

he bows, and though his appearance is unseemly after the race, the golden knight shines through. "they are big on apples, after." he gestures to the steed. "the horses. not your companions."

#|| threads -- the crownlands || #|| threads -- king's landing || #|| threads -- 100 days of games || #|| threads -- amerie 01 || #|| threads ||

[casimirtully]

setting: riverrun, the riverlands. during the seven winter feasts. on the night of the first feast, some hours after the candle ceremony, the king and lady bracken find themselves in close quarters in the vibrant and lively great feast hall. @briannabrackens

Casimir couldn't let it go.

For a countless number of reasons, the River King had wished The Seven Winter Feasts to remind each of his subjects that The Trident's currents rushed through all of them. Just as one success was a success for all, so was one loss a loss for all. The Trident was not a great river without its forks -- they came together, and were stronger that way. He'd intended the feasts to represent that, as they always had. Casimir had wanted them to mean something again -- all his lords, all in one place.

So when Brianna Bracken had shown up in a gold ensemble that was not what had been within the chest delivered to the Bracken's quarters, he couldn't let it go. He'd kept quiet -- professional -- during the ceremony, and her bow. There had been laughter crinkling the corners of her eyes, he was sure. But now there had been whiskey, and two of his lords were no where in sight. Ben and Ronan were no where to be found. It was looking for them that brought him to Brianna -- and he couldn't help it.

"Lady Bracken," he said, nodding his head in greeting. A smile on his face. Nearby, a feaster -- Lord Terrick -- caught his gaze, stopping before the pair, though he did not remain long. Casimir smiled broadly at him, and clapped the man on the back. Asking after his children, his harvest -- before Lord Terrick bowed, and moved on.

Still smiling, Caismir looked to Brianna again, though his tone has... changed, different just so. "You’ve lived here all your life, haven’t you, Lady Bracken?” A rust colored brow moves upward in question.

This time, it is a much elder lady who cuts them off, and his tone is different again. In a similar manner to Lord Terrick, Casimir cupped the elder Lady Bigglestone's hands, and after kind words and laughter she, too, moves on.

In their own conversation again, he continued. His eyebrow quirked a second time. "Couldn’t miss the chest outside your quarters. It’s old, and very large.” He imagined her now, stepping over the heavy thing. Jumping over it, even, instead of asking servants to bring it into the Bracken quarters like a lady. “The chest with the Candle Maiden’s dress.” A long look, and though he smiles, his voice becomes more deadpanned. “The dress the Candle Maiden wears every year. To An Chéad Fheis."

“The feast your family hosts. Nearly every year. That you have attended, nearly every year.” He crosses his arms over his chest, and despite his cordial appearance, he found himself tense. His tone gave him away -- Casimir was annoyed. "Have you thrown it in the river?"

#no need to match setting a scene ill be switching to banter length #this is the funniest hill ive chosen for him to die on #cas #youre projecting #|| threads -- the seven winter feasts || #|| threads -- the riverlands || #|| threads -- brianna 01 || #|| threads ||

[jaehaeraxtargaryen]

setting: king's landing, new valyria. a breakfast pavilion in the winding gardens of the red keep. a late morning during king jaehaerys' ii coronation, the lost princess has decided it is due time she try to be brave like her elder brother and mingle with his esteemed guests... (ft. @illyaoakheart) @fromspringandfire

Jaehaera Targaryen had never been very skilled in the art of conversation. Because when the dreamer spoke, it often wasn't words -- but dreamy tangents, words that seemed more like poems that speech. Her lavender eyes so pale they were nearly white. They'd slowly glaze over, and she'd suddenly look thousands of miles away. One moment there, and the very next... gone. Her fingers, if you watched closely, would ever so slightly tap unheard music upon an unseen piano. All these poems, these riddles. That was what her septas had always said. Tsh, tsh, tshing their tongues. Princess, you must stop speaking such nonsense. Your father will be displeased. Sometimes, it was you make people nervous. Stop acting strange.

Just then, The Queen of The Reach had looked quite unsettled when Jaehaera had curtsied to her, the movement as light as air and as fluid as a dance. Something she’d practiced a million times alone in her other room — a hummingbird in a silver cage, singing the days away.

Illya had been kind when Jaehaera congratulated her on her newborn son, a dreamy smile upon her lips, and had greeted her in return. The Rose of Oldoak even smiled when the princess told her how beautiful her dress for her morning prayer had been -- deep emerald greens dripping with gold that glowed in the morning light. More than one rose in the garden, but roots sink deep. A fox, tail dipped in white cream.

"Highgarden is so full of roses..." her head tilted, bird-like and dreamy, "...i'd find it hard to pick a favorite." Jaehaera's silver lashes had fluttered. She'd never been to Highgarden. What a wonder it must have been.

But then Queen Illya’s eyes had been the same — the same as every person who had looked upon her. With surprise, then confusion — then a deep cautiousness that eventually melted into discomfort. She had forgotten how people looked at her — how they had looked at her mother. You make people nervous. Tsh, tsh, tsh.

Her grandfather Otto had never found it displeasing -- just as he'd never scolded her mother.

Because Jaehaera could not help herself. Sometimes, though she stood in a room of people, she was suddenly in a different place entirely -- in a place she'd never been, or a place she'd never seen. A beach, recently -- with emerald green waters and two bright suns in the horizon.

Then Queen Illya's expression had changed again, from Jaehaera's eyes to somewhere over her shoulder. She excused herself, and Jaehaera at last turned to watch her go. As she walked away, Queen Illya walked past a woman -- she had tilted her head, but walked straight past her without stopping. An acknowledgment, but the smallest possible sort.

Jaehaera hadn't noticed.

She turned around to see who the woman was, and roses and foxes were forgotten. Instead, there was birdsong, and the smell of spring. Wrens and new things. She merely saw Laena -- and a bright smile erupted on her face. The Princess all but floated over to her half-sister, quickly taking her by one of her hands. "Jaehaerys told me you'd be coming. I was so pleased to hear it." It had been wrens -- the birdsong. "He has planned so many wonderful things. I've never seen so many people." Her smile is bright. "But it is most wonderful to see you, Laena."

Haera had never had a sister before. It had always been she, and her brothers. It was... it had been settling, comforting in a way, to look upon someone and see pieces of herself. The soft parts her brothers did not always have... soft, kind eyes.

#im a pot strier #|| threads -- the coronation of jaehaerys ii || #|| threads -- laena 01 || #|| threads -- king's landing || #|| threads ||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

setting: king's landing, the velaryon’s quarters of the red keep. before deimos and nefeli leave as envoys of new valyria (before the coronation?) @nefeli-velaryon

"No, I don't want to hold her. What sort of question is that?" Vhaenessa couldn't help the shadow of revolution that crossed her features when the wet nurse offered the small toddler, her niece Rhaenys, to her. It wasn't that she disliked the child -- on the contrary, the day she'd been born, Vhaenessa had seen that the babe would want for nothing. Rhaenys was Velaryon, after all -- she was perfect, just like her aunts, her uncles, elder brother and sister, and father. Nefeli was.... close enough to perfect, though not Valyrian. Had named her daughter for the Queen Who Never Was.

Uncle. Not uncles. Aerion is dead.

The gifts hadn't anything too extravagant. A brigade of silver spoons that depicted various insignia of House Velaryon, a jewel encrusted Bravossi cradle... There had been the swaddling blankets of the richest and most expensive thread from Volantis. The golden mobile, of course, that dripped with seahorses, shells, ships, and precious glittering sea-toned gems (the elder twins had been gifted with identical pieces, as would each of her other nieces and nephews as they came into the world.) The endless flow of designer toys from the priciest vendor in King's Landing weren't even bought from abroad. Basics.

The wet nurse blanched, the color leaching from her face in an instant. Tsk. She was new. She could be spared a verbal lashing, Vhaenessa supposed. But just the once. She wouldn't allow their household to be filled with idiots -- the girl would learn, or she would leave. Not that Vhaenessa had true say over the household -- no, that was her good-sister, Nefeli. But when you got on The Siren's bad side, you complied, or....

She smiled to herself. Or, nothing. They became nothing. Nobodies. Classless, social pariahs. Who would hire a maid who'd -- for the lack of a better phrase -- pissed off a lady of House Velaryon?

"Go read our sweet girl a book, or... something." She waved at the maid, then wagged her long finger nails at her niece, making kissing sounds with her red lips. But Vhaenessa didn't apologize to the wet nurse, looking over at her good-sister. "She's precious, Nef. Believe me. Sweet cherub, the future Beauty of Dirftmark, blah, blah, blah. But she leaks. So do the twins... and my dress is imported Lysene." Vhaenessa gestured to the gossamer, silken design. "We'll all bond when they can form full sentences." She paused, as if to ponder. "Or drink. Whatever comes first."

One of her lithe shoulders moved up and back down in a carless shrug.

"Is Deimy here? I heard you two were off soon, and I can't let him leave without a headache. It'd be a crime. Truly, good-sister." She slithered over to her, grinning. "He'd never forgive me." Vhaenessa kissed her on both cheeks -- peck, peck -- though made sure the gesture was light.

She'd didn't want to smudge her lip stain. It was her favorite shade.

#BRUH GETTING TO HAVE VHAE INTERACT WITH A C H I L D #IM CACKLING #|| threads -- king's landing || #|| threads -- nefeli 01 || #|| threads ||

[gaynfl]

this is so fucking insidious

#fuck mark suckerberg #be quiet izzy #meta #threads

[perditus]

quick starters || @lyriccl

" Not to be a bother, buuuuuut if you keep standing there you're gonna get swarmed. Some people noticed you "

#|| m || keigo takami #|| ic || #|| threads || #i did not mean to post this as a one liner oops