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ilynpilled · 1 year

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The golden armor, not the white, but no one ever remembers that. Would that I had taken off that damned cloak as well.

When I reach King's Landing I'll have a new hand forged, a golden hand.

Cersei might like that. A golden hand to stroke her golden hair.

I am not myself. He eased himself down until the water reached his chin. “Soiled my white cloak . . . I wore my gold armor that day, but . . ."

“Gold armor?” Her voice sounded far off, faint.

Jaime slid into the offered seat quickly, so Bolton could not see how weak he was. "White is for Starks. I'll drink red like a good Lannister."

She did as he bid her. "The white cloak . . ."

". . . is new, but I'm sure I'll soil it soon enough."

“That wasn't . . . I was about to say that it becomes you.”

When he was done, more than three-quarters of his page still remained to be filled between the gold lion on the crimson shield on top and the blank white shield at the bottom. Ser Gerold Hightower had begun his history, and Ser Barristan Selmy had continued it, but the rest Jaime Lannister would need to write for himself. He could write whatever he chose, henceforth. Whatever he chose . . .

"Robert's beard was black. Mine is gold."

"Gold? Or silver?" Cersei plucked a hair from beneath his chin and held it up. It was grey. "All the color is draining out of you, brother. You've become a ghost of what you were, a pale crippled thing. And so bloodless, always in white." She flicked the hair away. "I prefer you garbed in crimson and gold."

At its head Jaime stood at vigil, his one good hand curled about the hilt of a tall golden greatsword whose point rested on the floor. The hooded cloak he wore was as white as freshly fallen snow, and the scales of his long hauberk were mother-of-pearl chased with gold. Lord Tywin would have wanted him in Lannister gold and crimson, she thought. It always angered him to see Jaime all in white.

Ser Jaime Lannister, all in white, stood beside his father's bier, five fingers curled about the hilt of a golden greatsword.

Fissures had opened in his cheeks, and a foul white fluid was seeping through the joints of his splendid gold-and-crimson armor to pool beneath his body.

Glory wore trappings of Lannister crimson; Honor was barded in Kingsguard white.

His cloak was Lannister crimson, but his surcoat showed the ten purple mullets of his own House arrayed upon a yellow field.

"My lord," the lad asked, "will you be wanting your new hand?"

"Wear it, Jaime," urged Ser Kennos of Kayce. "Wave at the smallfolk and give them a tale to tell their children.”

“I think not." Jaime would not show the crowds a golden lie. Let them see the stump. Let them see the cripple.

Behind the lords came a hundred crossbowmen and three hundred men-at-arms, and crimson flowed from their shoulders as well. In his white cloak and white scale armor, Jaime felt out of place amongst that river of red.

Jaime Lannister wore a doublet of red velvet slashed with cloth-of-gold, and a golden chain studded with black diamonds. He had strapped on his golden hand as well, polished to a fine bright sheen. This was no fit place to wear his whites. His duty awaited him at Riverrun; a darker need had brought him here.

Jaime had thought long and hard about whether to wear his gold armor or his white to this meeting; in the end, he'd chosen a leather jack and a crimson cloak.

For an instant, the deep red clouds that crowned the western hills reminded him of Rhaegar's children, all wrapped up in crimson cloaks.

Seven bloody hells," he started, "who dares—" Then he saw Jaime's white cloak and golden breastplate. His swordpoint dropped. "Lannister?"

quotes specifically focusing on his hand:

“The boy is dead." Jaime had drunk three cups of wine, and his golden hand seemed to be growing heavier and clumsier by the moment.

His golden fingers were curved enough to hook, but could not grasp, so his hold upon the shield was loose. "You were a knight once, ser," Jaime said. "So was I. Let us see what we are now."

“Radiant." Fickle. "Golden." False as fool's gold. Last night he dreamed he'd found her fucking Moon Boy. He'd killed the fool and smashed his sister's teeth to splinters with his golden hand, just as Gregor Clegane had done to poor Pia. In his dreams Jaime always had two hands; one was made of gold, but it worked just like the other.

"Men shall name you Goldenhand from this day forth, my lord," the armorer had assured him the first time he'd fitted it onto Jaime's wrist. He was wrong. I shall be the Kingslayer till I die.

One of them wore the ruins of a crimson cloak, but Jaime hanged him with the rest. It felt good. This was justice. Make a habit of it, Lannister, and one day men might call you Goldenhand after all. Goldenhand the Just. The world grew ever greyer as they drew near to Harrenhal.

The weight of his golden hand had grown irksome. He fumbled at the straps that secured it to his wrist.

Well, what's one more broken vow to the Kingslayer? Just more shit in the bucket. Jaime resolved to be the first man on the battlements. And with this golden hand of mine, most like the first to fall.

Around him he glimpsed the faces of men he'd done his best to kill in the Whispering Wood, where the Freys had fought beneath the direwolf banners of Robb Stark. His golden hand hung heavy at his side.

then the subconscious conclusion:

"Is it?" She smiled sadly. "Count your hands, child."

One. One hand, clasped tight around the sword hilt. Only one. "In my dreams I always have two hands." He raised his right arm and stared uncomprehending at the ugliness of his stump.

I think the narrative that is being told in the color symbolism present in Jaime’s story is the realization that glory has no presence in the man he wants to become. He gradually realizes again the truth of the golden hand covering his stump being a golden lie. It is more an embodiment of his sins, a heavy burden he carries. True honor and change will not be wrapped in gold, and obviously not crimson. But this should not lead to the return of his cynicism, which is how he approaches this early on, and why he wants to delude himself about it. He greys, and he sheds the red and gold color. The white becomes him. The crimson & gold comes back when he does his duty for the horrid Lannister regime, when he sustains loyalty to his family, and emulates his father. Nonetheless, he keeps drawing nearer to the blank white shield at the bottom of his page and distancing himself from the crimson at the top. But maybe the lesson is that he cannot start over like that. Maybe his only choices are not the evil Kingslayer and the glittering Goldenhand the Just. Maybe he should just be Jaime. That white shield is tainted. Our good actions do not wash out the bad. They will exist simultaneously. You will never be the golden heir, the perfect pure white Just Knight. You are a crippled broken man. But that does not mean you cannot choose to continue living and keep pushing to change for the better:

“What else can I do, but die?”

“Live,” she said

Maybe the blank white shield is an impossible ideal not made for him. But what remains if he cannot be crimson, gold, or the pure white?

yet she knew it was him. “Even at a distance, Ser Jaime Lannister was unmistakable. The moonlight had silvered his armor and the gold of his hair, and turned his crimson cloak to black.”

He was always meant to be a grey character. Why don’t we mix that black & white?

#something about the gold of his armor and hair being silvered turning closer to white and his crimson cloak turning black #and it is the moon #the graceful crescent during the night he decided to live #and its as early as agot?:?):#i love being delusional guys #asoiaf #jaime lannister #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf meta #also the ‘Jaime resolved to be the first man on the battlements. And with this golden hand of mine most like the first to fall’#he is at it again oml #frank reynolds ‘sulclde is badass’ on loop #anyway the build up works very well with the vows of taking the black

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wilmonssun · 3 months

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#young royals #youngroyalsedit #wilmon #wilmon endgame #wilhelm x simon #simon eriksson #wilhelm #young royals s3 #abdication truthers ☝️#when omar said we need to bring tissue oh he wasn't lying 😞#that freaking music room is cursed like wth they're fighting again in that room oml!#young royals s3 trailer

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tappedthedavidsassonce · 1 year

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I keep being reminded that Gabe is like an actual archangel that predates literally everything except God

Like, he’s just my goofy little meow meow what do you mean he is beyond human comprehension, massive and probably really elegant looking? That man is an actual trash guy!

A dirty raccoon even! With fleas and shit!

#sabriel #he has charisma but at what cost #goddamnit his charisma tho #spn #supernatural #spn gabriel #gabriel spn #can’t believe Sam loves him oml #it’s the issues that attract him but again #at what cost?

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eldiandiablo · 6 months

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EREN BBS RISE!! I NEED HELP FINDING AN AO3 FIC

It was about an Eren!Bully x Reader college au. he was super mean at the start. (OKAY WARNING) like he made a bet with floch to see if he can make the reader fall in love and then leave her all heartbroken.

OH AND ALSO HE GOT LIKE HELLA PISSED AT THE READER BC she knew that his mom Carla was sick and dying and she didn't tell anything to eren.

DOES ANYONE KNOW THIS FIC???

#🐝 b’s chat #attack on titan x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #I NEED HELP OML #AND LIKE THEY RE-MEET AGAIN IN COLLEGE BUT THE READER IS SCARED OF HIM BC HE IS A MEAN ASS BULLY

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cinnabell2 · 2 months

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Yeah becuase you know I just had to do it to em

#cinna-arts #league of legends fanart #cheer leader hwei real!!#was dragged into the girls locker room #after being benched AGAIN #looser..#but my looser #lukai hwei #sona buvelle #HE LOOKS LIKE THE NICO NICO GIRL OML...

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dy1ng-athe1st · 3 months

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So.... today's quality played me dirty BUT! I had a (lets say nice) conversation with Del and he was like "tf you want from me" but then (I think) he started to checking me out (??), like, just look at this:

this frickin' mf, goddamn, i'm too horny as for a fictional character

#if he keeps staring at me like this im gonna push him against this damn door i swear #new fanfiction story unlocked lol #I don't know why ppl say he's mean #he's so frickin' nice to me #too nice oml #he's such a babeee #a small bean #a coffee bean #like his eyes #sorry for quality again #delgado #starfield #crimson fleet #bethesda #my oc stuff #my screenshots #gay shit

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adamlovesspecs · 8 days

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yall i rewatched it chapter two..............

i had a big ol obsession with the it movies from like 2019-2021 and i was very cringy about it AND THE OBSESSION IS COMING BACK I AHSHSJSJD

i keep remembering really cringe bullshit that i did in my old phase but like.....

#im becoming a reddie fan again oml #THEYRE SO SAD AJSBD #idk my favorite character tho like i always loved stan but he doesnt get much screen time so.....#i do like adult eddie so maybe him 🙏#anyway im just baffled that my covid/quarantine obsession is taking over my brain again #it 2017 #it 2019 #it chapter 2 #it chapter two #it chapter one #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #beverly marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #stanley uris

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raytm · 20 days

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to gaze upon the eaves of the passing, amorphous buildings in awe. the glistening of stalactites tapered to blunt, convex points. they revealed his reflection in billowing streaks of colour, nebulous around the edges, waning away as it skirted to the other side. he could have stared into its frosted, ethereal world for hours, fractals of shimmering light dancing across his vision. his stomach lurched, knees threatening to buckle as serval’s stride continued on and he sank into the snow, hitching forward inelegantly. the alcohol settled in him as warmth, imbuing his senses with a pleasant distortion. this place, often bleak and wintry, was far more benign when witnessed slantwise. his laughter was a sweet baritone, untethered to ludicrous things like decorum. serval shook her head, either nonplussed by her brother’s descent into delirium or finding it hilarious, incongruous to their soirée’s dignified air. her hair, long and blonde, shone with a lustre of starlight, whipping back and forth on the brisk, eventide wind. her laughter sung with a dulcet cadence of incoherence, not because she was inarticulate, but because he was drunk. one, two, the crystalline glasses of effervescent wine were sweet, and even their father’s hibernal lower did not jerk him from his stupor. he had ushered them over, brandishing his arm like an incensed, seizing branch, lowering his voice to a seething hiss, take your brother home. it wasn’t a request. stumbling through the early evening snow was far more thrilling than a ballroom of stifling vanity and perfunctory niceties. the streets were vacant, cast in arresting shafts of sputtering street light, oil lamps burning away, their flames high and quivering. where the undulating swells of darkness stopped the light became loose strands, lambency wreathing through the spills of ink before fading away. these otherwise familiar sights were augmented in his inebriation, so much more enthralling now than ever before. “ move it, slowpoke.” his sister’s scolding is gentle, a lenience afforded to so very few. he blinks at her, slowly, allowing her features to bleed into clarity. “ home - right, home.” often, that word held with it an insurmountable weight, manacles that kept him adhered to his family’s noble name and inherited responsibilities. now, it felt like the benevolence of a smoldering fire, chasing the lingering chill from his bones. the fireplace was imposing, built of old, clay bricks and filled with neatly chopped logs. the aromatic scent of still glowing cinders, the quiet stillness that accompanied it, that felt more akin to home than any tepid gatherings of family ever did. Gepard leans into her, his shoulder bumping into hers, bracing himself for another, labored step, then another, his thighs felt like gelatin. “ we’re going home.” it was spoken softer, a whisper of chattering teeth and rallying sobriety. his sister nodded, turning her attention back to the street and the two of them continued on, lurching just a little less now.

#⋆⁺₊❅. 𝐺𝐸𝑃𝐴𝑅𝐷 𝐿𝐴𝑁𝐷𝐴𝑈. › 𝐢𝐜.#alcohol /#gepard drabble #ok now i write the angsty one #i love the landau siblings sm you have no idea #this happened 1 time and he got an hour long lecture the next day as well as a headache oml.#never again.

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x-reader-things · 7 months

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“You’re our son—” (Spider-Man AU - part 3)

Part One ; Part Two

Ezra Bridger x gn!Reader

Summary ; In which Hera tells you both the plan of action.

Requested? ; No! Part three of the AU that I talked about in my last post- :DDD

Warnings ; mention of Kanan’s master Depa Billaba getting killed. Also not much of a warning, but found family things w / Hera, specifically- <33333

Word Count ; 1.3k

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The explanation was small, and straight to the point. After a couple years of living with the Ghost Crew, Ezra figured out that long winded explanations wasn’t the best route to go down when talking with Hera.

He and Kanan heard from police scanners that ‘The Inquisitor’ was at it again, terrorizing others on a subway train for whatever cause he was trying to pull them into (something something ‘Empire’ or whatever. Ezra didn’t pay too much attention). The both of them swung their way over, got to the subway station just before the train went off on its way, and swung in just in time.

And just before the police got to them too, thankfully. They really don’t appreciate a vigilante when they see one. Luckily, Hera had some pull to help them out of trouble.

While Kanan was busy getting citizens in the subway car, Ezra was busy fighting ‘The Inquisitor’ on his own for the first time.

Bad decision, because he ended up getting thrown onto one of the seats, and his mask got ripped off, which revealed his identity to the ‘Big Bad’ he was fighting. Not that The Inquisitor knew his name, but he definitely knew his face now.

And now yours, too.

Because you were right there, unbeknownst to both heroes and the villain. Hidden in that corner, shielding yourself and your groceries with only your school bag. And you visibly and verbally reacted when you saw what happened.

It doesn’t even take an idiot to realize that you knew who Ezra was once the mask was taken off. Especially when said idiot was The Inquisitor. Which was a no bueno with Kanan and his rules.

After all, he lost his teacher - the only motherly and parental figure he had - Depa Billaba, because something similar happened to him years ago. He never really explained what happened to Ezra. All Ezra knew was that a lot of people were killed that day because of it. Including her.

Kanan could never live it down in the slightest, because of that. He wanted Ezra to always be careful with his mask when going out in the city as another Spider-Man, just in case.

Which, in turn, probably made this situation a lot worse, the more Ezra thought about it.

Hera hummed, mouth pressing into a thin line once Ezra finished his explanation. “Ok… that makes this, well, a little bit more difficult than I thought.”, she said thoughtfully.

She placed the warm ceramic cup down onto the table, and sat up fully. “But, that doesn’t mean this can’t be fixed.”

“Y/n”, she said, turning to you. “You’re gonna have to lay low here for a little while, ok?”

“Wait - what?”, you furrowed your brows, looking at all the grocery bags on the table in front of you. “What about these? Or - or my parents? Or school??”

“We‘ll have that covered, kiddo, don’t worry.”, she smiled at you. “I’ll have Sabine and Zeb drop them off later on today, and we can call up your parents to explain the situation. I work as a consultant for the police, and this house is a designated safe house just in case for situations like these. We have a guest room you can stay inc and You and Ezra can still go to school. You just have to be driven there instead.”

“But the—“ Hera cut you off again.

“I know, I know, the traffic sucks.”, she pointed a thumb to the rooms behind her. “Kanan and I know our way around the city on the roads. So does Sabine, if we can’t drive you guys. It’ll be fine.”

The smile she gave you was one full of sincerity and hope. It was… oddly calming, to say the least. Then again, she always had that effect on you. And Ezra (not that he would ever admit that to Hera herself though. You, however, are a different story).

You took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. It calms you down, before the rush-in of loud thoughts could make their way into your head again. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine.

You’ve had sleepovers there before, anyways. It’ll be just like those. Just… a really long winded one, until The Inquisitor is off your’s and Ezra’s tail.

“As for you, Ezra Bridger”, Hera continued once again, her voice taking on a sterner lilt. “No going out as Spider-Man with Kanan for a while. Not until we have the situation with The Inquisitor under control, alright? Do you understand me?”

“What?”, now it was his turn to question the decision made. “Oh, c’mon Hera, it was one slip-up—“

“One slip-up that could easily get you and your best friend either hurt or in danger, or - hell - even both”, she told him, gesturing to the both of you. Her tone grew more serious, more urgent the more she went on. “Kanan and I aren’t willing to risk it, Ezra. Your our son—“

Ezra’s eyes subtly went wider. The amount of conviction in Hera’s voice struck a chord in him, one that he sometimes forgets he has.

Family.

The concept is still so new to him, even if it’s been a few years.

“—much like how Sabine’s our daughter. And Y/n may not be apart of this family, but we care about them just as much as you do. We need you both to be safe. This is the best course of action we’re able to do right now, alright?”

Ezra sighed, shoulders visibly deflating. Hera was right; you both knew that. It was the best course of action, and there wasn’t much either of you could say about it. Not right now, at least.

And it’s not like he minded being out on house arrest either. Especially if it was with you. It could be fun, if things went smooth enough.

Hopefully.

“Alright”, he agreed, albeit a hint of reluctance still hung on to the edge of his words. “If this is the best course of action to keep us safe then… I guess it’s fine. Right?”

He looked to you.

“Right.”, You gave a reassuring nod, brows furrowing upwards afterward for a moment in a silent question. He nodded back at you, reassurance there and clear as day for you this time.

Hera’s face softened up, a small and relieved smile turning the corners of her mouth up. “Good. It’s settled then. I’ll go get Sabine and Zeb to grab the groceries and bring them to your parents, Y/n. In the meantime… think about dinner.”

She stood up from her seat, bringing the cup of coffee with her. “Usually it would be my turn to choose what to have tonight, but I’ll leave that decision with you”, she raised her cup in your direction. “After all, it was this bucket-heads fault for getting your into this mess.”

She lightly flicked Ezra’s ear. He let out an indignant noise, and brought a hand up to his ear, staring at Hera with a look of utter betrayal.

“Hey!”, he exclaimed, pouting a little bit. “What was that for?”

“You know why, Ezra.”, Hera gave him a pointed look, and turned back towards the kitchen. On her way, she glanced back at you again. “Think about what you want for dinner, sweetie. It can be anything you want.”

You smiled brightly at the thought. Hera chuckled fondly at the sight, and opened the door to the kitchen, closing it behind her once she stepped over the threshold.

Ezra slowly turned back to you, his hand still rubbing his ear. Flick or not. Hera’s strength stung.

“Soo… what’re you thinking about for dinner?”, he asked you. The casualness of it all made you both fall right back into the usual comfortability, as if nothing big happened between you two, or the family in the house you were in.

The bright smile you had stayed clear as day, only enhanced by the setting sun blaring through the blinds behind you.

“How does Chinese food sound?”, you asked, leaning your forearms against the table.

Ezra always thought sunsets were beautiful. This one was just as lovely.

“Sounds perfect.”

His own smile radiated back at you, like the glare of the moon reflected back to the sun.