#like having your first thoughts upon hearing a song be about your ship or your f/o is so sweet

[jonbinary]

many posts about fitting a song to your self ship based on one specific line BUT what about the beautiful inverse...when a song fits so perfectly to your ship that it feels like it was written for it despite the artist obviously having 0 knowledge of yourself and/or The Blorbo. thats love bay bee

#like having your first thoughts upon hearing a song be about your ship or your f/o is so sweet #self ship #self ship community #post inspired by honey r u coming by m.aneskin being abt vendetta l.eon and si

[phoneuserhana333]

.°˖✧ NSFW+SFW neighbor!doctor!abby / neighbor!producer!reader headcanons .°˖✧

tags: NSFW!!!, dom!abby, strap on, size kink, semi-public car sex, recording the deed, undefined relationship, fluff? perhaps?, hickey giving, come to brazil

:: notes; basically miscellaneous headcanons and thoughts!! hope u enjoy<3 also, part two of the story-based headcanons is in the works, but i fear that it’ll be tooooo long:(

PART1 — PART2 — PART3 — NSFWHC

• during your situationship era, just when you started to get close, abby and you would pick each other’s packages up. you both had expensive equipment shipped over often, so it was a welcome gesture.

• imagine your shocked face when you see a “nsfw, do not open in public!” stamp on one of these packages

• when you rip it open, and find a sleek black strap on (that’s way too big), you nearly cum on the spot. you could barely wrap your hand around it!

• of course, abby would make it fit, albeit with a bit of a struggle she secretly enjoyed, which is exactly why she ordered a bigger size. dr. anderson has a raging size kink!

• abby acts all cool and unbothered when you show her the love songs that you wrote about her. what you don’t see is her giggling and blushing red when she hears the same song in the hospital during her shift a few weeks later, blasting on the radio in the voice of some singer who you work with often

• on the other hand, hearing a more suggestive song she knows is about her will have the woman pulling the car over during a road trip and kissing you until you’re breathless; “backseat, on your knees”

• and suddenly you’re being fucked silly with her hand over your mouth and the other gripping your hips, as abby tries to angle the strap juuust right so that it pleases you both

• it took abby months to find out you were famous. honestly, nora probably told her.

• and she didn’t realize how famous you are until you started dating. kinda dawns upon her when you explain why people are commenting “come to brazil” on a photo of you holding hands, but she’s still pretty clueless

• she is the FIRST person to tell you that a sample or song or lyric sucks (“you know i love you but sweetheart… what is this?”), followed by a pat on the butt and a kiss on the cheek for trying

• she likes to help with lyrics but stays away from instruments and melodies, rightfully so

• accidentally pressed some random buttons when she was fucking you in your home studio once and recorded the whole thing. will send the audio to you randomly, followed by a formal “When will you be home, darling? :)”

• technologically illiterate. poor abs

• when you were still in that undefined phase of your relationship, abby would hate fuck you alll the time.

• singing loudly late into the night? she’s stuffing your red panties into your mouth to shut you up. back talking when she’s telling you off? suddenly you’re bent over her knee, spanked and edged into oblivion. having another party? abby already snuck in, trapping you in the bathroom until she’s had enough of your pussy

• abby herself has no idea why she’s hatefucking you 80% of the time. spoiler alert: it’s because of her repressed emotions towards you. abby doesn’t really date around imo and you showing up and flipping her life upside down was unexpected

• and tbh ellie doesn’t help with this; she’s a huge fan of your work, knows all the singers you work with and is always super nice to you whenever dina drags her along to your parties

• abby hates her. she becomes so much more affectionate towards you after she meets ellie: touching your shoulders and legs, wiping a crumb of food from the corner of your lips with her thumb, anything she can get away with basically

• makes you cum extra hard the night after she met ellie, making sure your neck and collarbones are bruised from her rough kisses and bites (and you’re not even dating yet, how scandalous!)

• she confessed first. horribly anxious and overdressed, abby showed up at your door with a bouquet of assorted flowers, that she chose based on their meaning, your favorite champagne and some sweets you liked. thoughtful, thoughtful gal

• if it was up to her, you would’ve u-hauled a loooog time ago, but she wants to give you space. still, you find yourself sleeping over 6 nights a week and daydreaming about matching rings. how odd!

• basically, you felt first, abby fell harder.

#abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby x reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #tlou #the last of us #wlw #sapphic #ellie williams

[short-honey-badger]

Peppermint Tea 15

Figured I would go ahead and get this part out since it was already halfway written. Just some super fluffy and domestic stuff since I've been in my feels lately.

Also. JJk fandom. The name is for you. It's pretty obvious.

btw. I'm running out of OPLA Gifs of Mihawk, so you might start seeing some anime gifs.

Warnings! kissing is all.

Song reader is singing! Here!

Masterlist

Time passes as time does. Weeks turn into months since the day Dracule stumbled upon your island. He visits when he can, usually staying three or four days at a time, every couple of weeks. During that time, you and Mihawk have grown closer, to the point that the two of you were in each other's thoughts at every waking moment. There was nothing in this world that would keep Dracule away from his Snow Angel. 

Today Dracule had a rather unusual gift, so his ship was packed with the things necessary to take care of it. Dracule dearly hoped that you would like this one. He surely did not. Or maybe it didn't like him. 

As the months passed by, Dracule gifted you many things, some for you and some for your home. The three chickens, one rooster, and two hens had arrived not long after Mihawk had figured out your true heritage. Your garden expanded another four plots to accommodate all of the new seeds and saplings the warlord brought you. He had even gone so far as to help you build a pen for the goat Dracule had brought along on one memorable trip. The poor man had not been happy and made you help him clean his ship. 

The best gift of all was being able to finally meet Perona after weeks of speaking over the phone. The pink girl had quickly become your closest female friend, and it felt incredible to have someone to speak to about the girlier things in your life. There were some subjects that Mihawk just didn't get. 

Thankfully, Mihawk arrives at your island before he decides to toss your gift overboard. He gathers his things and then flashes off the ship, making sure the ocean doesn't touch the wiggling body in his arms. Golden eyes glare up at him and he glares right back down, and the warlord swears this thing is worse than the goat. Dracule can hear music pouring out of the cottage when he gets close enough. 

And then there suddenly appears before me 

The only one my arms will ever hold

I heard somebody whisper “Please adore me” 

And when I looked, the moon had turned to gold

Mihawk huffs at the lyrics. His timing was far too good. The closer he gets, he begins to hear your voice as well, and Dracule would much rather hear you sing to him than some man who is long dead. He would stand and listen if his gift wasn't threatening to claw his eyes out. 

The warlord steps through the open door of the cottage, and his shoulder slumps as soon as he enters the humble abode. This place is his home away from home, and it never fails to bring him peace. 

Dracule finds you in the back storage room, a crate full of the older and unneeded stuff you had lying around. After not having anything but the couch for Perona to sleep over on, you had decided that it was about time to clean out the back room for her. Or anyone else that didn’t want to kill you first thing when they washed up on your island.

Blue moon

Now I’m no longer alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own 

He leans in the doorway, watching you finish up dumping a broken oar into the crake. Mhawk knows that you see him when you jump and turn to look at him with narrowed eyes and a cute little sneer. 

“Bastard. You scared me,” you grumble and then you cross the floor to carefully slide his hat off, holding it to the side as your free hand slides into his hair and brings him down for a sweet kiss, “Welcome home, dear.”

Mihawk hums into the kiss, gently nipping your bottom lip, and then sliding his tongue inside your mouth when you open up for him. You taste like sweet chamomile, and it leaves a soft smile on his face when he pulls away to gaze down at you, “It is good to be back, Angel.” 

The two of you share several more sweet kisses before the wriggling bundle in his arms finally gets your attention. You pull away and look down to see a very angry feline staring up at you. You break immediately at the sight of its pitiful gold gaze and hand Mihawk his hat back so that you can scoop the kitten up.  

“Where did you find him?” You ask and have already abandoned Mihawk in favor of giving the orange tabby in your arms all of your attention. The kitten purrs happily when you scratch behind his ears. 

Dracule glares at the creature, and the kitten glares right back from where it is happily curled up against your breasts. Mihawk doesn’t know how much he likes this idea anymore. 

“I stopped for a resupply before I came here. There was a fishmonger that had chased it off, and I knew that you would give it a good home,” Mihawk explains. He sighs when you baby talk at the kitten, not giving half the attention he deserves for bringing the little demon to you, but your happiness was definitely worth it, “I have what you’ll need to care for it in my ship.” 

The grin you grant him is worth it too, and Dracule can’t help himself when he crosses the room to press you against the wall, lips connecting with yours in a kiss a little more fierce than the ones earlier. Mihawk has missed you, far more than usual for some reason. You moan into his mouth, eyes sliding shut when Dracule slides a hand around your jaw, angling you just how he likes.

A loud yowl interrupts the two of you, and Mihawk pulls away to sneer down at the kitten who proceeds to hiss at him. You laugh, seeing his jealousy clear as day, and over a cat of all things!

“I guess we should name him, huh?” You say and it’s your turn to be on the receiving end of that sneer. You scoff at him and lift the kitten, dangling him in front of Dracule, “You found him, so you get to name him.”

Dracule scoffs and turns on his heel, stripping off his coat to hang on the mantlepiece, quickly followed by his hat, “He is your cat, so you are the one naming the demon,” He dismisses and stalks to the kitchen, but you only pout and follow after him. 

“Nu-uh. That’s not how this works. You saved him, you name him.” You weren’t about to back down on this. The kitten mewls and you snuggle it back to your front, tucking the fuzz ball under your chin. 

Mihawk ignores you in favor of pouring himself a glass of wine and snacking on the green grapes you must have harvested earlier today. He feels you slide up beside him, and chances a glance down to see his darling staring up at him with wide, pleading eyes, “Ugh. Fine. Give me a moment to think.” 

You cheer at your victory and patiently wait for Dracule to decide on a name. He does you the courtesy of actually thinking of a name and smirks when he settles on a proper name for the hellspawn.

“Sukuna,” Mihawk decides and you repeat the name, getting a feel for it. You don’t know the story behind the name, but it must be an interesting one with the way Mihawk is smirking at the kitten. 

“I think that’s a good name,” You agree and scratch Sukuna’s little ears again, melting when the kitten only purrs louder and snuggles close. You giggle when you catch Mihawk glaring at the kitten again, “Let’s find Hank. I think he’ll like his new friend.” 

Hank turned out to not like his new housemate very much. Sukuna had taken one look at the big hound and had puffed up, long fur bristling so much that he resembled nothing but a cotton ball. Hank had run from the tiny ball of anger straight to Mihawk, cowering behind the man, and whining whenever Sukuna got too close. 

“Nothing but a coward,” Dracule says, but he is already kneeling to give into Hank’s puppy dog eyes and give him some pets. Sukuna stalks from one end of the room to the other, fluffy tail straight up in the air as he surveys his new home. 

Mihawk straightens up when he sees you approaching. You settle in his lap, hands cradling his handsome face as you lean in to press your lips to his brow. Mihawk grasps you by the hips, tugging you flush against his front and holding you close. He noses along your jaw, “Are you happy with your gift, sweet thing?” He rumbles quietly. 

You nod, “Very happy, Mihawk,” you assure him and settle more fully in his lap, letting the man under you take your weight. He massages your hips, causing a soft sigh to slip from between your lips, “I missed you.”

“Did you, Darling?” Mihawk breathes and pulls you down to press his lips to yours for half a second, “What all did you do while I was gone? I see that you already started to clean up, even though I told you to wait for me.” 

You shrug helplessly, “I couldn’t help it. I was really bored, and we already decided what needed to be thrown out, so,” You trail off and lean forward to snuggle against his chest, “You can help in the garden later?” 

Mihawk huffs and presses a kiss to your hair. He watches as Sukuna chases after Hank’s tail, lips twisting in satisfaction to see the two animals getting along better. His arms tighten around you, and you have relaxed completely in his grasp. 

“Whatever you wish, dear one.” Dracule agrees and says nothing when he feels you grin against his neck.    

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @goth-mami-writer @myradiaz @fluffybunnyu @bookandstar

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #fluff #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #opla mihawk #mihawk x you #mihawk x y/n #one piece mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #opla mihawk x reader #opla #cute #Peppermint tea #cats

[gabigabigabby]

hey!! i absolutely adore all ur writing <33

i had a really specific request for a pulisic x reader fic where they’re friends w benefits and he invites her to go on a trip with his friends because he has an extra ticket and during the trip, he gets jealous about how close she is to his friends? and she’s secretly doing it to make him realize that they should get together

thankss!!! <3

friends with benefits | c. pulisic

christian pulisic x fem!reader

a/n: thanks for the request anon! honestly i was super excited to receive a pulisic request 😆! sry for the wait, i literally had no idea how to continue this so i hope this does ur request justice! i also linked a song that really reminded me of this entire plot so go check it out below (if u want!). enjoy! ⭐️

synopsis: what christian thought would be a lust-filled trip to ibiza... turned upside down.

it all started with that one offer.

hey, havertz decided to tap out of this ibiza trip and i have this extra ticket if you want to tag along. it's just me, mason and joão. i know we're not like that but i'd love for you to come.

and it ended with that one favor that you had asked from mason.

that text that christian had sent you yesterday seem to never leave your mind. after all, the two of you are only friends with benefits. friends with benefits don't go on vacation together. your mind takes you back to the very first time.

"no strings attached?" you reminded christian before anything happened.

"no strings attached." he repeated. and the rest was history.

you replied yes anyway, before taking a deep breath and getting off your bed to pack. you are familiar with ibiza having travelled there with a couple friends a year ago, so you knew what to pack.

you find yourself driving to christian's house as soon as you did after receiving a text from him saying that mason and joão have already begun to gather there. upon arriving, christian, mason and joão had already huddled before the front door, christian locking it carefully.

"hey guys," you greet, rolling down the window and putting your car in park. "you don't mind if i leave my car here, do you?"

christian smiles at the sight of you smiling at the three guys. "no, not at all," grabbing his suitcase, he and the lads walk on over to the front gate that was automatically opened when you arrived. "i just booked an uberblack for the four of us."

"alright, man!" mason cheers, patting his best mate's back before wheeling his suitcase over to the front of the house, joão following behind him. walking over to the trunk of the car, you open it and pull out your suitcase, slamming the trunk and locking the car once you're done.

"how are you? we haven't seen you in a long time." joão asks, his arm around your shoulder.

"i've been good. you know, been taking time for myself." you smile, appreciating the fact that joão had the courtesy to ask about your well-being.

"good to hear." joão answers as the uberblack pulls in before the house.

it was about an hour drive from christian's home to london heathrow. the four of you were in no rush so you took your time; getting starbucks, checking in 30 minutes before the gates close and you still had more than enough time to sit down and have a conversation about how life's been treating you.

once it's time to board the plane, you find out that you're seated next to christian. he had helped you bring your lighter suitcase into the overhead compartment and sat next to you. "hope you don't mind, havertz chose this spot." christian shrugs. you shake your head and wave it off, truly because you didn't mind it at all. it'd be nice to sit with somebody who knew you inside and out — literally.

there was a comfortable silence between you and christian on the short two-hour flight to ibiza. you fell asleep on his shoulder and his heart started palpitating, as it usually does when you both end up in bed together.

mason had pre-ordered a yacht a week before the trip. the ship had only two rooms. it was only obvious that you share the room with christian since he knows you better than mason and joão. nothing had happened the first night, as you'd expected. but you kind of had this empty feeling in your stomach.

you'd always wanted to find out why christian invited you, out of all his teammates. he could've invited enzo, conor, ben or reece. but he chose you. but of course, you like to make things difficult for yourself. in order to find out if christian really does have a thing for you, you're going to pull a prank on him.

a prank which you will need mason mount's help, who you found in the kitchen, taking small sips from his water.

when you wake up the next day, you meet the guys at the front of the yacht for breakfast. you give mase a knowing look. giving you one back, mason clears his throat. "thanks for last night, y/n. i had fun."

"yeah, no problem. i had fun too." you reply almost immediately. christian's head immediately turns to look at you. you realise he felt like asking you what that meant, but he drops the act eventually. because who was he to you? nobody important, nobody that should be questioning what you and mason were doing together last night.

"he didn't fucking fall for it, mase," you pull him aside after breakfast. "what do i have to do to make him realise it?"

"it's alright. we'll think about something else. i'm convinced he likes you. and not just because of what you do at night." mason rubs his chin.

joão had planned to have dinner at this highly-rated restaurant near the yacht park. this was all a part of mason's plan to make christian realise that there's nobody better for him than you. in the middle of your meal, mason gently kicks your leg from under the table, making you look up from your food at him. mason bobs his head sideways, pointing outside. you nod your head and at the same time, you and mason both get up and head outside.

"this better work, mase." you lean on the brick wall that lined the entire restaurant.

"it should," mason instinctively gets closer to you as you fish your hand into your purse, pulling out a box of cigarettes before putting one onto your lips and lighting it up. "look, look. no, don't look, christian's coming. this'll work, woman. trust me. laugh at something i said."

so you did. mason didn't say anything but you laughed anyway. the front door swings open, revealing a fuming christian. "okay, pray tell. what is going on between the two of you?"

mason turns to face him. "nothing, lad. just... having a conversation with her."

"don't bullshit me, mount," christian spits. his eyes suddenly show that i just connected the dots stare. "are you guys fucking behind my back?"

"ew, christian!" you stand up straight. "mason? really? you think i'm sleeping with mason? mase?"

"we get it, y/n, you don't like me like tha—" mason couldn't even finish his sentence before christian grabs him by his shoulders and shoves him back towards the restaurant.

"i'm gonna talk so you keep smoking," christian begins, finding his spot right before you. "i like you. i like you a lot. and not like that, if you're gonna say something. i like you like that. and i don't care if that's gonna affect anything between us. you're gonna take me, and you're gonna take me as i am." he takes a breather.

"can i talk now?" you say after taking a drag of your cig. christian nods.

"i like you too, you douche. i always have. and i knew you did too. i just wanted you to realise that, so mason and i schemed all this." you admit, killing your cig after taking your last drag.

christian had been holding his breath the entire time you spoke. "oh, thank god." he finally lets go of it.

"you wanna tell the guys now?"

"yes, please." he groans, before aggressively grabbing your hand and walking back into the restaurant.

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x you #christian pulisic x y/n #christian pulisic x reader #chelsea fc #mason mount #joao felix #football #football x reader #football x y/n #football x you

[plazmafields]

Some thoughts about Kerry:

Spoilers ahead, needless to say.

1)

I saw a video comparing the two versions if Chippin' In (Kerry's vs. Johnny's) where someone in the comments suggested the reason Kerry leaned more mainstream rock is because he only wanted to make music for money. I completely disagree with this and here's why:

User Friendly was the last song Kerry put out before deciding he wasn't going to perform live/tour anymore and went into a deep depression. Looking up the lyrics, you can see he was becoming very distressed with the lack of control he had over his career, and the things he says in the song sound like a cry for help that wasn't received by listeners the way he had hoped. We never hear his version of the song, and I believe that is intentional. Vapid, loud, chaotic, almost over-stimulating laser-pop is such a huge juxtaposition to the lyrics, and yet it's the only version we get to hear. Clearly User Friendly meant a lot to him or I don't think he would have reacted the way he did; combined with the cover being done by a pop group groomed by the music industry to sell as many albums as possible, it all went against Kerry's original intent with the song. Then there's the story of how he wrote Bleed the Beat: he was working his ass off for people he couldn't stand and that song was his outlet during that time. He'd play until his fingers bled just to get his frustrations out. Music is his medium for release, just like it was for Johnny.

In Johnny's version of Chippin' In, the phrase "chipping in" has two meanings: getting your first implants, and, the same as our universe, helping out. Johnny's song uses both meanings interchangeably during the choruses, the verse before it dictating which definition is being used. Johnny's arm is (from what I can tell looking at the design) military issue. The song is both about the corpo military forcing him to get an implant, and also about believing he was doing the right thing when he joined by "helping out" the armed forces. Since, in this universe, militaries are owned and/or sponsored by corporations, Johnny views corporate jobs and military service to be the same level of morally wrong (The Ballad of Buck Ravers attests to this).

In terms of how the two songs compare, obviously Kerry's version of Chippin' In is meant to have more wide appeal. Not only are the lyrics more tame, mostly just talking about the implants themselves and only having one verse that even mentions anything "political", but I believe Kerry understood that the best way to get his music to the most listeners was to go for a more mainstream sound and universally relatable lyrics, so he toned it down. Everyone hates corpos, sure, but not everyone wants to bomb Araska HQ. This is probably a stretch, but we can see from the flashbacks that Kerry didn't have any implants during his time in Samurai, so maybe Johnny was like super opposed to implants after having one forced upon him, and Kerry's version of the song is kind of saying "hey if you want implants get implants, they make you look cool don't feel bad about it."

2)

I do support the idea that Kerry should have been bisexual like in the source material. I absolutely get that bi erasure is a big problem, ESPECIALLY with male characters. However, I respect that in the game you can only romance him with a masc V; I'm not going to mod him to he bi, I'm not gonna ship him with women. I see it the same way I see Cullen from DAI: he is canonically bisexual, just not attracted to my male Inquisitor (in Kerry's case, fem V). Maybe Kerry had such a traumatic divorce from his ex-wife that women just kinda scare him right now. We can see high heels and bras and blush littering his house, so we can assume that at the very least women are still getting naked for some reason or another at his parties. Maybe he prefers men romantically, or maybe he's just not ready to date women again, and we as players should respect that just like we would a real person.

3)

Kerry was 100% going to kill himself when you show up to his house. There are shards advertising robotic security systems in numerous places around his house (meaning he fired his human body guards), shards with negative reviews of his last album, there is only one camera and it is by the front gate (none inside the house), he gave his cleaner and cook "the day off" that very day, you see in emails that his ex-wife is giving him the option of all or nothing with custody (you take the kids or you don't get to see them), and he isn't enjoying making music anymore, his one passion in life. He had a gun with him in the bathroom, and I believe by the way his speech slurs and he makes the impulsive decision to get Samurai back together, that he is drunk for that entire scene and has a drinking problem. It is my opinion that the reason he doesn't reveal any of that to V is because he knows Johnny will hear it and judge him, call him weak, or make insensitive jokes like he does to V when he gives you the quest. The only time we see Kerry be somewhat vulnerable is 1. Over text when talking about the crazed fan, since he probably thinks Johnny can't see those (I believe he can) and 2. In the epilogue when Johnny has been removed from V's head (Kerry says he doesn't want to lose V, and during the credits he tells V he just wants their lives to be less hectic so they can spend more time together).

4)

It took me a couple playthroughs to warm up to Kerry, Panam is probably still my favorite romance, but I think Kerry might be the best romance option for a Skreetkid V. He perfectly embodies the plights of Night City at every income bracket: no matter where you are on the food chain, if you're not at the top, you're getting fucked over. He clearly likes living in comfort while still embracing his rebellious side from his youth. But now, he has the cushion of money and status to save him if things go tits up (when you get a wanted level in Westbrook district, close to North Oak, the officer on the police scanner says "I swear, if its Eurodyne again" suggesting that he is very reckless but hardly ever faces real consequences). Maybe he stays in his gilded cage because he fears facing real hardship on his own, without friends, without a support group, without Johnny. He has a strong sense of pride, though, and would never admit to needing Johnny, even if they were best friends. The way Kerry wants to show Johnny a riff he's been working on after the concert, only to be disappointed when V takes over again, I think it really shows that as much as they disagreed, their friendship held the band together.

5)

I don't remember if Johnny hints at it or I saw someone suggest this on here, but the idea that Kerry only "dates" V because Johnny is in his head is ridiculous to me. The first time he called you to deal with the Us Cracks tour gear, he wanted Johnny. Every time after that, he wanted V. He definitely realizes which of the two is helping him; he can tell them apart. The Johnny that Kerry remembers wouldn't have done a selfless thing in his life, lest risking his pride and reputation as Night City's biggest fuckboy. Whether you really schmooze him up or tell him he's going overboard, Kerry appreciates that you helped him. And I think after the concert, when he hands V his gun, Kerry's body language suggests that he wasn't planning to give the gun to Johnny, he thought about it because V was back in control. V helped get the band back together, V helped decide if Denny or Henry should play the gig, V was the one who brought Johnny to Kerry's house. Johnny won't take over to do it himself despite probably being able to. I only wish you didn't meet him so late in the main story, so that his story could have more time and space to breathe.

#cyberpunk #cyberpunk 2077 #cbp 2077 #kerry eurodyne #cyberpunk kerry #cbp2077 #ramble #my thoughts #my theories #the gays must be tragic #otherwise what's the point #tw sui ideation

[pagesfromthevoid]

Enchanted | g.d. | 1

Gale Dekarios x fem!Tav

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I have the entire series written and I am NOT sorry.

Talk to Me! | Series Masterlist

My undying love, now I hold it like a grudge,

And I hear your voice every time I think I’m not enough…

The first time Gale heard her voice, it was the very start of his isolation and seclusion in his tower.

At the time, it was a distant sound –something that sat in the background of his tower when the balcony doors were opened and he had half a mind to pay attention. Most of the day, he had been too absorbed in his self-loathing and hatred, thinking about everything that had gone wrong and led him to losing not only his title of Chosen, but losing what he considered the love of his life. 

The circus had been in town all month at that point, but he had little interest in it even when he wasn’t a recluse. The bouts of magic and entertainment were too on the nose for him, and he had little interest in the acts that were geared towards the more easily distracted. But something about her voice that first evening caught his attention as he sat on his balcony, watching the ships leave the harbor.

The first time Gale heard her voice, he peered over to the circus, where a small crowd had gathered around a bard. He assumed she was a bard, at least –she had a lute, and she was singing. Not many people were around –certainly more interested in what was going on elsewhere in the circus –but she was still performing like it was her lifeline. The lights that surrounded her made it hard to make out any distinguishable features, though he supposed it didn’t matter what she looked like if he could hear her voice clear as day.

The arguments that I have won against you in my head,

In the shower, in the yard, and in the mirror before bed –

I’m so tough when I’m alone and I make you feel so guilty…

Much like him, it seemed, she was heartbroken over a love lost. It struck Gale as almost uncanny how closely the lyrics resonated with his own inner turmoil. He found himself wiping his eyes, moved by the poignant melody that seemed to mirror the depths of his own anguish. As he listened, the weight of his current struggles pressed heavily upon him – the pulsating presence of the Netherese orb beneath his skin, the sting of rejection from the one person who had once understood him better than anyone else. It puzzled him how this bard, a stranger to his own personal hells, could capture the essence of his emotions with such accuracy.

Gale couldn’t listen to her very long before he slammed shut the doors of his balcony and retreated into the darkness of his tower once more.

*****

The next time Gale heard her voice, it was when the circus returned the following year. 

A whole year had passed since Mystra cast him from her favor; a whole year had passed since he was implanted with a ticking bomb in his chest; a whole year had passed since he last heard the bard in the circus, singing about her own heartbreak that felt so much like his that he sometimes thought back to her words and reminded himself that he did not need to hold a grudge.

The next time Gale heard her voice, he noticed that the crowd gathered around her was still just as modest as before, perhaps even smaller. The ambient lights continued to cast a glow over her, creating an aura that blurred her figure around the edges, resembling distant stars. Despite the dwindling audience, her voice carried a seasoned richness, hinting at a depth of experience and emotion that had matured since the last time he had heard her sing. Gale briefly wondered why she insisted on performing songs that failed to attract large crowds, yet simultaneously wondered if such trivial matters even registered on her radar. It struck him that perhaps, for her, the act of sharing her music was a personal journey rather than a quest for recognition or fame.

Looking back, I think the magic all along was me,

Cause I can’t help but look for the best in you.

But I can’t be in love with the things I just hope you do…

He wondered, once again, how she managed to reach into the depths of his very soul and tear out the feelings he also held. It was unlikely she was heartbroken over a god, but whatever had happened to cause her to write and sing about what she did –Gale was thankful that someone could put it into words, even if that someone was a bard whose name he didn’t even know. 

Tonight, he did not slam the doors of his balcony when it got overwhelming. Instead, he sat and he listened, committing each word she sang to heart. He allowed the feelings to wash over him, to cry as he recalled the stupidity of his actions, to curse the folly of his own doing. 

I can’t be in love with potential,

I can’t say it’s all circumstantial…

Maybe I should go away,

It’s your choice if you wanna change…

As the nights progressed –he started to keep track of what nights she was there and what nights she was not –Gale noticed a subtle shift within himself. At first, it was merely a passing interest, but gradually it grew into something more. With each performance by the bard, whose voice seemed to be laced with the Weave itself, he found himself captivated. He discovered a new sense of resonance with her music, each note laced with emotions he hadn't explored before. And it wasn't just the music that drew him; it was the sincerity in her voice, the passion in her lyrics, and the way she poured her soul into every performance. 

Soon, Gale's evenings became synonymous with her songs, and he found comfort in her voice drifting up to his balcony. As he reflected on his feelings, he began to question the depth of his devotion to Mystra, realizing that perhaps his connection with the goddess wasn't as balanced as he once believed. Perhaps he was better off without Mystra to impress –even if the orb pulsed within him and demanded control.

*****

Showed you all of my hiding spots,

I was dancing when the music stopped…

And in the disbelief, I can’t face reinvention

I haven’t met the new me yet.

“Mr. Dekarios,” Tara announced one evening, having gone to retrieve something with a substantial amount of magic within it for him. 

“Hello, Tara,” he greeted with a soft smile, sitting on his balcony with his eyes shut. The bard’s voice was drifting over him, and for the first time since he started paying attention, this song wasn’t nearly as bitter or sad. 

“You seem almost…content,” the tressym commented, hopping up on the seat next to him. Gale opened his eyes, meeting her gaze as she scrutinized him. “I do hope that means you’ll leave this tower soon.”

“Perhaps,” he hummed, looking over his balcony and down towards where the crowd was gathering once more. Maybe he would join the crowd tomorrow, before she started. Finally put a face to the voice that he had listened to every night for the last three weeks. 

Tara followed his gaze, hopping up now on the bannister of the balcony. She cocked her head to the side, eying the lights and people. “Have you been listening to her all night, Mr. Dekarios?”

He nodded once, standing up to join her on the balcony. Resting his arms on the ledge, Gale leaned over and watched as more people gathered around his bard –well, not his bard, but the bard –and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy that they got to see her up close. But at the same time, he was happy for her; she was getting the attention she deserved. 

There’ll be happiness after you

But there was happiness because of you.

Both of these things can be true…

“I’ve been listening to her every night, actually,” he admitted with a soft chuckle, feeling his ears burn with mild embarrassment. “I…She’s a lovely singer, that’s all.”

Tara simply eyed him for a moment before returning her attention to the bard below. “She talks to herself quite a bit when she’s not singing.”

Gale’s attention snapped back to Tara, brow furrowing. “How do you know that?”

“She feeds the strays –who am I to pass up a free meal, Mr. Dekarios?”

“Tara,” he scolded, rolling his eyes. “You are not a stray; more importantly, you’ve met her?”

“Poor thing thinks I’m just a cat with wings, but yes, I have spent time with her. Very polite, a bit sad. I suppose I could introduce you –,”

“Please,” he quickly interrupted, standing up straight. “Tomorrow, we’ll go tomorrow.”

Tara seemed surprised by his sudden want to leave the tower, however there would be no complaining from her. Gale leaned over the bannister once more, looking down at the crowd that finally settled in to listen to her sing. 

No one teaches you what to do

When a good man hurts you,

And you know you hurt him too…

*****

Stepping out of his tower for the first time in a year, Gale had to pause in the doorway to brace himself for it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to leave; actually, on the contrary –for the first time in a year, he felt confident enough to step outside and not blow anyone up. But he was overwhelmed by the familiar sights and smells of his beloved Waterdeep and it took him a moment to get his bearings again. Tara strolled beside him, however, reminding him that it was okay.

He was more thankful for that than she would ever know.

It wasn’t a long walk to where the circus had set up for the month, but he took his time, enjoying the sun and the salty breeze that tousled his hair. It had been too long, and if he was going to go confess to the mysterious bard that was below his balcony that he was enchanted by her, then he needed to take his time and get a little more confident in himself.

With Tara leading the way, Gale smiled and waved at neighbors who greeted him happily. It was a nice reminder that perhaps he wasn’t all that alone, even if he was destined to be consumed. He hummed one of her songs to himself, unable to help the smile that was spreading over his face as they finally stood at the gates of the –

Empty circus grounds.

The wizard and tressym stopped short, staring at the torn down tents and remaining pieces of equipment that were being loaded up into a cart. It was a handful of stage hands that were left –it seemed the main performers had taken their leave already.

“No, no, no,” Gale panicked, pushing through the gates and hurrying up to a kobold that was packing up his inventory. “Where is everyone? I thought –the circus –,”

The kobold looked up at him with shifty eyes, pointing around in random directions. “Circus is gone, I is packing up my treatos and getting on road. You want treato? I has lots, treatos make you feel better!”

“What? No, I don’t want –the bard –the girl, who sings. Is she still here?”

“Lots of bards, lots of singing –I is not knowing which one.”

Gale groaned, raking his hand through his hair in frustration. Tara huffed in annoyance, interrupting. “The one that feeds the strays, Popper.”

“Oh!” Popper –apparently –exclaimed. “Favorite human. Very nice. She leave this morning, with bendy friend.”

For a moment, he simply stared down at the kobold with unseeing eyes.

The circus was gone and so were his chances of finally laying eyes on his bard.

“Can you…will you pass along a message to her, Popper?” He finally asked, looking around the mess of the kobold’s shop before finding relatively clean parchment and a quill. He scribbled out something quickly, then waved his hand to ensure the ink dried. With a couple pieces of gold and the parchment, he held it out to Popper, who snatched both up with a frantic nod.

*****

“Oh hello, Popper,” she greeted with a small smile when they made it to their next city.

Popper was setting up a series of very clearly stolen –and slightly bloody –weapons he must have knicked off some bodies on the way. He spun around with a hop, throwing his arms up in excitement.

“Tayve! I has treato for you!” 

“Is that so?” She raised a brow and knelt in front of him, smiling softly. “And it’s Tav, Popper. You’ll get it one day.”

Popper waved off her correction, yanking out a wrinkled piece of parchment and shoving it into her hands. “From man in last town. Gave me lots of gold to deliver.”

Tav’s brow furrowed a bit as she uncrumpled the note, looking it over for a moment. It was a poem, she thought, as she read it over. But no name was signed.

The lingering question kept me up

2 AM, who do you love?

I wondered till I'm wide awake

Now I'm pacing back and forth, 

wishing you were at my door

I'd open up and you would say

It was enchanting to meet you.

Your singing saved me. I wish I could have told you in person.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #gale x tav #gale dekarios x tav #gale of waterdeep x tav

[yuffi369]

I had this idea earlier today and couldn't get it out of my head, so, here. Inscryption content be upon ye

Daisy Bell

P03 x GN!Reader

You find out that P03 tends to sing to himself when he works alone.

You'd been in the land of Inscryption for a while. You'd no idea how long time had passed outside, but here, it felt like a month. Time moved inside the disk faster than it did in the outside world. P03 had suggested a minute outside was about a day inside- so you'd guessed you'd been gone about thirty minutes, give or take.

The Scrybes didn't know how to get you out of the game. They were used to interfacing with a Challenger through a screen, not actually having a real human being standing face-to-face with them. While they had their own goals in mind, you were on friendly enough terms with all of them to where they all wanted to help you get back to your own life. Sadly, progress had been naught so far, but it was the thought that counted. In exchange for their help, you gave them company, something they all desperately desired.

The one you visited the most frequently was P03, oddly enough. Leshy had let you build a small cabin right by the ocean in his domain, so it was clear on the other side of the island to visit the Scrybe of Technology, but you liked spending time with him. You found it easy to simply sit in the same room, working on separate projects, but together. He wouldn't admit it, but he enjoyed your company, too.

Today, you brought a basket full of lunch food- sandwiches, veggies, pastries. P03 didn't eat much, but he could, if he wanted, and if you offered he always took at least something, to be polite (which, in fairness, he wasn't used to being polite, either). You mostly brought food because you knew you'd be over working for a long time, and if you didn't bring any food you likely wouldn't eat again until you got home.

As you entered P03's factory, standing outside the door, you thought you heard something. High-pitched tones, coming from small speakers inside the building. You thought the song sounded familiar...

As you were trying to recall where you'd heard this song before- it was on the tip of your tongue, so frustrating!- you heard... P03's voice. You were stunned into silence as you heard him singing along to the familiar melody.

"Daisy, Daisy, Give me your answer, do I'm half crazy, All for the love of you"

You remember, now, upon hearing the lyrics. The first vocal synthesizer had sung this song, in 1961. It sounded so sweet, coming from P03's voice box. You guessed that the programmers of Inscryption fed this into his AI, potentially to give him some kind of more realistic-sounding dialogue.

You had a habit of singing along to songs without even realizing it. Upon the second half of the song starting, you began to sing along with the melody as well.

"It won't be a stylish marriage, I can't afford a carriage, But you'll look sweet, upon the seat, Of a bicycle built for two"

Abruptly, the speakers stopped playing the melody. You stepped back as the door to the factory quickly opened. P03 stared at you, with a slightly annoyed expression. Although, was that... blush, on one cheek of his face display? You didn't even know he was capable of being embarrassed.

"Hey," you said, casually. "Mind if I hang out for lunch?"

"Yeah, sure," they replied briskly, turning and hovering back over to their desk. "Next time, just knock."

You shrugged. "I was trying to figure out what song it was. I didn't know you knew how to sing..."

"It's just a catchy tune. Music helps me focus, sometimes. You know how you stinky humans used to sing work tunes when you were working on railroads or sailing ships? Kind of like that."

You smiled. "I think it's a sweet song."

P03 was... oddly silent, for a long moment. His monitor facing away from you, so you couldn't see what expression he was displaying, he finally replied, "Yeah, it's alright, I guess. Been stuck in my head a while."

You sat down on the other side of the table, big enough for the two of you to work on your separate projects. As you begun to get out your notebook to work on your next writing project, you begun to sing under your breath, the song stuck in your head.

"There is a flower within my heart, Daisy, Daisy, Planted one day by a glancing dart, Planted by Daisy Bell"

From the corner of your eye, you saw P03 shift in his seat. You heard him play the melody, and then, you heard his voice box pick up singing the next verse.

"Whether she loves me or loves me not, Sometimes it's hard to tell; Yet I am longing to share the lot Of beautiful Daisy Bell"

With the next chorus, you sang together again, this time intentionally.

"Daisy, Daisy, Give me your answer, do I'm half crazy, All for the love of you!

It won't be a stylish marriage, I can't afford a carriage, But you'll look sweet, upon the seat, Of a bicycle built for two!"

"Enough," P03 said, cutting off the melody. "We're getting distracted."

You looked back up at P03 and nodded. "Sorry." You could've sworn you saw his display face had a blushing expression again. But you decided not to pry, and simply got back to work.

#inscryption #p03 #p03 inscryption #inscryption p03 #p03 x reader #this was MEANT to be a drabble but i guess i write nearly 1000 words real easy lol

[silverdune]

this siren song is not your calling | c.sn

"you were supposed to be no different.."

minors dni. ageless blogs dni. blank blogs dni. you'll be blocked.

genre: fantasy/horror

character(s): choi san (ft. you as a seafarer)

tags: siren!san, seafarer!reader, captain!reader, ships, ocean, san has a tail (merpeople), scales and webbed fingers, angst, one cuss, mild gore

word count: 879

summary: choi san is a proud siren, one who has been watching and waiting to capture you for a while. but when he finally tries, something strange occurs..

a/n: ik this is quite short, i just thought of this concept the other day and wanted to write it; lmk if you're interested in an expansion? i'm up for writing more if you want to see more :)

He thought he had had you wrapped up from day one.

That's what he likes to believe anyway.

Choi San was a proud siren, chest in the air without a single thought paid to the hearts that became his trophies. Every sailor that attempted to parry his advances found themselves beneath the depths of his ocean plinth and the beating organ in their rib cage became another plaque on his figurative wall.

You were supposed to be no different.

Your ship had passed by many times, and he had taken note of your schedule once he caught on to how often you would take this exact route. Once San learned you were the captain, just from observation alone, a smirk appeared on his face. You would be his first.

When your ship passed through this waters for the dozenth time, he clambered forth onto his rock and waited for your approach. His pupils shifted to daggers, much like the shape of his teeth, his webbed fingers shimmering against the moonlight as water trickled down his hands.

He had done this so many times before; San had laughed to himself as he watched your ship glide across the waters. This was going to be easy.

Pushing himself up over the rock, he licked his lips a few times, ready to sing the song that he had rehearsed many times for this occasion. No one else would hear this song - this was for you and you alone.

Opening his mouth wide, a whistling cry sprung from his larynx, causing the ocean around him to ripple within an inch of its life. You could mistake the effect for a major thunderstorm or tornado, a testament to the sheer power in his lungs and voice.

Your ship continued to sail as if unaffected by the song. San thought to himself that in mere seconds you would be veering towards him, completely bound to his will and unable to escape. He was beyond excited to add your heart to his collection.

And yet, you sailed on by, remaining undeterred, and to that, he stopped.

His lips almost quivered as they sealed shut. He shuddered against the rock, disturbed by the fact that nothing had come of this attempt to allure you.

Glancing up, his cerulean eyes burning like an eel in the murkiest depths, he screamed again, but it wasn't so melodic as it was mangled in his defeat.

San had failed to enrapture you. He had failed to take your heart.

A loss so cruel it sent his boneless body back to the water.

But San did not intend to give up. He was going to have your heart, one way or another.

The next time you appeared, he did the same thing again, but this time made his presence better known. He was unmistakable, his tail a brilliant forest green, his shoulders brandishing well kept scales of a burgundy hue.

San glared across the waters, watching and waiting for your ship to be within reach. When he saw you take to the bow and hold a telescope to one eye, he opened his mouth to sing once again.

That was when you pointed your telescope directly at him.

Through the telescope, you spotted the siren on the rock, and upon closer inspection, dropped the telescope overboard and into the sea.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed. You almost threw yourself over trying to grab it, and just about managed to with your legs halfway in the air. The balustrade was nearly piercing your skin with how hard you were holding on, and the blood rushed to your head in seconds.

San shut his mouth and shot up, back completely straight. His eyes grew wide when he saw you.. and for some reason, he felt an urge to do something.

All caution, thought and sense was thrown out the window when he dived into the ocean and swam at great speed towards your ship. The second he got to you, he popped out from beneath the surface of the water and looked up at you.

Your jaw dropped.

As did his own.

No, no, no..

San did not have time to think about this. He brought a hand out of the water, splayed his fingers, then pushed his palm out, which sent you flying backwards over the railing and onto the deck of your ship.

The landing was sudden and unpleasant. The telescope was still firmly in your grasp. Your crew was rushing over to help.

Every voice blurred and melded into one big cacophony of noise.

The only thing you could see in your mind was the siren.

What was more horrifying was that.. you knew him.

San..

San didn't even return to his rock. He instead disappeared to the cavern where he often resided when he wasn't taking in the sun or the sights of his potential targets.

The tears were plain to see, even in the water.

Your name looped incessantly in his head even as he willed it to leave him be. Your face was now the only picture and it made him scream into the ether.

Now he understood why you did not respond. His siren song could not have persuaded you.

For your heart had already been his once before.

× tristeetconfus (ave). do not repost. ×

#ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #san scenarios #san imagines #san x reader #words.(ave) #fic: this siren song

[delta-pavonis]

Last 10 Fics/Writing Patterns meme + Last First Line Tag Game

First the writing patterns meme, which is such a cool idea! I was tagged by @teejaystumbles! Thank yoooou.

Rules: Post the first lines of your last ten fics posted to AO3 (Sort by date posted), AND see if there's a pattern!

By last updated date:

3 March 2024: Quaternion

KLOT DOD-DOT The knock of the twisted iron ring against its plate on the outside of his library door startles King Morpheus from his reverie. He is supposed to be notating one of the histories of the Moirai, the so-called Three Sisters of Fate, who have ruled the island nation of Ananke with brutal efficiency since seemingly time immemorial. Their ships have been seen too often in view of his coastline of late and he needs to be prepared for whatever their intentions are.

15 February 2024: you might be the answer to the sinner in me

“Hob, are you alright?” Hob’s shoulders tighten and his spine goes ramrod straight. It is the family holiday dinner and he is out on the back patio in the cold, staring at the over-manicured hedgerows that make up one of the distant property lines. He left to have space to pull out his vape pen and take a hit because that is probably the only way that he is going to get through the night.

16 January 2024: Placebo Effect

“You should just DM him,” Desire is studying their nails, the dark red of dried blood, while reclining on a chaise in the living room of their oldest sister’s condo. “My kingdom for anything that might throw Dearest Mumsie and Popsicle off your trail for an evening. I don’t think I can endure another holiday of it.” They sprawl, letting their head loll backwards over the armrest, to look at Dream almost upside down. “What say you big brother?”

6 January 2024: show me who I am

Hob taps his fingers on the table next to the map of Northern Ireland and takes a sip from his glass of shiraz. “I think this is it. This is the plan. We’ve got it. Anyone see something we missed?” He looks around the table at each person in turn, waiting for a response.

1 January 2024: Another Song

Shunk ka-thunkszzzz. The lights in the entire loft go out. “What the FUCK?” Matthew’s voice smacks into Dream despite the thick panels of wood between them.

30 December 2023: Thoughts on the Roman Empire (and Other Pickup Lines)

“You know, I think this whole meme going around about men thinking about the Roman Empire is great!” Hob smiles at the ceiling as he leans back in his chair, balancing it on its back legs, propping his feet up on the table in the private library study room. He doesn't need to look at Morpheus to know that the grad student is giving him a withering glare, or perhaps not looking at him at all. “First off, people are discussing history! Second, some of the jokes are actually solid gold. Like I saw one that just murdered me in broad daylight. Wanna hear it?”

21 December 2023: Levade

“Oh fuck Dream,” Hob writhes in his bonds. “You said you wanted more did you not?” The centaur smirks. “I am simply acquiescing to your request.”

15 December 2023: You create me against your lips

The first time Hob sees Dream is when the latter has the audacity to enter the Morningstar's realm. He watches as the Dream King intimidates Squatterbloat into bringing him to the Palace. The demon is stupid and gullible, easily swayed, and Hob has a mind to bury his morningstar in the moron's fleshy head, but he would rather observe the visitor and his raven from the shadows.

9 December 2023: where I'm supposed to be

For all that he shares a given name with the God of Sleep, has a nickname of Dream, he has only experienced lucid dreaming rarely. Once, maybe twice, before. But. He knows he is dreaming right now.

26 November 2023: Venus conjunct Saturn

“Show me, Hob.” Dream purrs in a way he knows will make his lover shiver. “Show me how she pleasured you.” He is laid beneath Hob, who is on all fours above him, and the only cloth they have is the sheets upon their bed here in the Dreaming.

Other than 30% of those fics having titles from Maneskin lyrics... apparently I like to start with sounds or dialog. Some in medias res beginnings in there, too. Huh. Fascinating.

And, just for fun, here are the FIRST few lines paragraphs of the finished fic I have on deck, a sequel to A Change in Tactics (published in October 2022!)... (originally I was tagged in a last lines tag game by @amielot!)

“We have to stop meeting like this!” Hob laughed as he broke the barstool in his hands over the head and shoulders of another patron of the White Horse Inn. Said patron had just previously been trying to stab Hob with a shard of wine bottle so he most decidedly deserved it. Hob pulled a chunk of wood from where it had lodged in his palm and frowned at the blood that welled up there. A crash to his left stole his attention. “Ope. Watch out Lou!” Lou ducked the tankard aimed at her head with all the sliding fluid grace of one well-acquainted with being deep in her cups. She didn’t spill a single drop of her own ale as she backed around the bar and out of the Inn through the alleyway door. Lou may have been part of starting this fight, but she clearly had no intention of finishing it. Which was just fine by Hob. Lou didn’t deserve to be in hospital any more than absolutely necessary. She had enough going on, as Hob had just learned. Speaking of his mysterious friend… Hob flung his sweaty hair out of his eyes in time to watch Dream elegantly sidestep the brawler charging him like they were a pair in some courtly dance. The beautiful bastard hadn’t even moved his hands from where they were clasped at the small of his back, while his opponent had gone headlong into a wooden pillar. “This only happens when I join you here, Hob.” One loping step over the fallen man and Dream was back at Hob’s side. (Graceful twat.) “This type of violence is notably absent when you visit my Realm.” (Double the twat on that one.)

I tag... everyone who has a springtime birthday.

#Dreamling #learn about Pavonis #Pavonis writes #writing meme #tag game

[reidfucker]

mitski songs that make me think of reid + a specific lyric

spencer reid is very mitski. but these were the first to come to mind. i do not take criticism.

- working for the knife

honestly, the entire song reminds me of reid, but this in particular:

I always thought the choice was mine

And I was right, but I just chose wrong

I start the day lying and end with the truth

That I'm dying for the knife

- liquid smooth

I'm liquid smooth, come touch me, too

I'm at my highest peak, I'm ripe

About to fall

How I feel this river rushing through my veins

With nowhere else to go, it circles 'round

- class of 2013

Mom, would you wash my back?

This once, and then we can forget

And I'll leave what I'm chasing

For the other girls to pursue

Mom, am I still young?

Can I dream for a few months more?

- i don't smoke

Just don't leave me alone

Wondering where you are

I am stronger than you give me

Credit for

If your hands need to break

More than trinkets in your room

You can lean on my arm

As you break my heart

- abbey

again, the entire song is very reid, but:

I am something

I have been something

I was born something

What could I be?

There is a light that I can see

But only, it seems, when there's darkness in me

There is a dream that I sometimes see

That only appears in the dark of sleep

- i bet on losing dogs

Will you let me, baby, lose

On losing dogs

I know they're losing and I'll pay for my place

By the ring

Where I'll be looking in their eyes when they're down

I wanna feel it

I bet on losing dogs

I always want you when I'm finally fine

- the deal

Then of course, nothing replied, nothing speaks to you in the night

And I walked my way home, there was no one in sight

Save a bird perched upon a streetlight, watchin' me

So, I stopped and let it watch 'til I found that it said

"Now I'm taken, the night has me

You won't hear me singin'

You're a cage without me

Your pain is eased, but you'll never be free for

Now I'm taken, the night has me"

- fireworks

this is perhaps one of the reid-est. here's the particular lyric:

One morning this sadness will fossilize

And I will forget how to cry

I'll keep going to work and you won't see a change

Save perhaps a slight gray in my eye

I will go jogging routinely

Calmly and rhythmically run

And when I find that a knife's sticking out of my side

I'll pull it out without questioning why

- i don't like my mind

again, the entire song is reid, but this is my pick:

I don't like my mind, I don't like being left alone in a room

With all its opinions about the things that I've done

So, yeah, I blast music loud, and I work myself to the bone

And on an inconvenient Christmas, I eat a cake

- first love / late spring

very cliché, but i HAD to include it! here:

And I was so young when I behaved 25

Yet now, I find I've grown into a tall child

And I don't wanna go home

Let me walk to the top of the big night sky

- there's nothing left for you

You could touch fire

You could fly

It was your right

It was your life

And then it passed

To someone new

It'll keep passin' on

Long after you

- nobody

And I don't want your pity

I just want somebody near me

Guess I'm a coward

I just want to feel alright

- because dreaming costs money, my dear

I once lived in the sea

Bring me to your ear, you can hear

The tide where I used to be

Though now I'm but a shell

- a pearl

Sorry, I don't want your touch

It's not that I don't want you

Sorry, I can't take your touch

It's just that I fell in love with a war

Nobody told me it ended

And it left a pearl in my head

And I roll it around every night

Just to watch it glow

Every night, baby, that's where I go

- real men

Real men keep cool in the face of a fire

Go down with the ship

And real men don't eat

'Cause they're above that, damn it

Oh, I'm gonna be a real man

- crack baby

It's been a long, hard 20 year summer vacation

Both these 20 years tryna fill the void

Crack baby, you don't know what you want

But you know that you had it once

And you know that you want it back

Crack baby, you don't know what you want

But you know that you're needing it

And you know that you need it bad

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #mitski #mitski lyrics #reidfucker

[therisingdarkness]

5 Times Ghoul Left the Bar Alone, and One Time He Didn’t

for @cloned-eyes and Ghoul, my adopted son, and for Odessa, who deserves him XD (it’s like 30 pages, i’m so sorry lmfao)

Also figured I should link the other parts (also guess i should mention there’s some adult mentionings, so if you’re underage, i’m not your mom but don’t get caught lmao)

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

As luck would have it, Ghoul’s next deployment sent him back to Ryloth, right into the waiting arms of Cham Syndulla and Captain Howzer, who were only too happy to explain exactly what was expected of him for the mission at hand; it was nothing he hadn’t done before, nothing that he shouldn’t have had any trouble with. And he didn’t. He was fine. Performance above reproach despite his grumbling and scowling, winning him Syndulla’s unneeded and unwanted praise upon his return.

It used to make him sick, the way his superiors commended him to his face after another successful mission—it still did, but now he was forced to endure their adulation with her in the back of his mind, and the things she had told him. Would they sing songs about this victory, small as it was? Would they remember his name like she had? Did they already speak it among themselves in lilting whispers when he wasn’t around? When he took his leave, would they look to the stars and remember what he had done?

He wasn’t distracted.

He couldn’t afford to be. 

But sometimes…sometimes out of the corner of his eye he would catch a glimpse of green lekku and he would find himself turning his head out of curiosity, despite knowing it couldn’t possibly be the little bartender on Coruscant.

Sometimes he would hear bright laughter and he’d freeze in place.

He caught snippets of conversation in Basic, the accent familiar in a way that was almost a relief, and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why.

If Howzer and Syndulla suspected anything, neither made mention of it; for that, Ghoul was grateful. He didn’t know what lie he’d have to make up on the spot to cover for any inconsistencies in his performance, but it’d have to be a good one to survive Syndulla’s scrutiny. The head of the Twi’lek rebellion was one of the very few figures Ghoul felt he could respect—unlike the leaders of the Republic, Syndulla put himself on the front lines of nearly every skirmish, leading by example and throwing himself head first into harm’s way. He fought for Ryloth, for his people, in a way that determined exactly how willing Ghoul was to risk his own life for the mission assigned to him.

Captain Howzer, on the other hand, was just a standard clone but he followed Syndulla’s lead with an eagerness that bordered on sycophantic. He was a good soldier, obedient like he was supposed to be, and Ghoul hated him for it. Thankfully, he outranked Howzer and therefore didn’t have to answer to him. All transmissions were heavily encoded and Ghoul didn’t engage in smalltalk outside of the mission itself so it was easy to isolate himself until the time came to return to Coruscant. 

A solid sixty rotations had passed, during which time he had gathered enough intel to give the Twi’lek rebellion the advantage it needed to push back against the Separatist forces; with luck they’d be able to secure the win they so desperately needed. Ghoul didn’t care either way—he wouldn’t be there to see it. To the clones stationed on Ryloth long term he imagined it would mean more for their morale…but they were idiots in the same vein Howzer was, softhearted and too quick to give too much of themselves for a cause that wasn’t their own. 

Orders are orders, Ghoul thought bitterly to himself as he checked his packs over one last time. The transport ship taking him back to Coruscant was nearing its departure; he’d be sharing too small a space with too many wounded troopers, many of whom probably wouldn’t survive triage. Stabilizing them didn’t mean anything if they were sent back to Kamino for ‘reevaluation’. It was a death sentence either way and Ghoul wasn’t looking forward to fighting off the memories that were sure to be dredged by during the trip. He could close his eyes and remove his hearing aids, but the smell…the smell of death wasn’t something that could be ignored.

“Commander!” 

Ghoul groaned and ran a hand down the right side of his face, narrowly avoiding the cygarette he had been trying to savor in spite of the dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t get a moment’s peace to himself, not on this planet.

“Howzer,” he said, not bothering to hide his irritation as the captain jogged up to greet him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just wanted to see you off, Sir,” Howzer said brightly, saluting with an enthusiasm that set Ghoul’s teeth on edge. 

“Don’t need it,” he muttered. “You got better things to do, surely.”

“Not right now, thanks to you. That intel you procured put us ahead of our original plans by months. We’ll be able to launch an effective counterstrike against those clankers within the week.”

Ghoul snorted. The rebellion couldn’t afford to lower its guard at their current standpoint. The position they had held onto by tooth and nail for the past sixty rotations still put them at the disadvantage; all it would take was one full-scale assault from the enemy and they’d be wiped out. It had been one of the first things Ghoul had pointed out upon his arrival, but his advice had gone unheeded. It didn’t matter—in an hour he’d wash his hands of Ryloth and all five of its moons. As soon as he boarded the transport, it wouldn’t be his problem any longer.

“As long as you don’t kark it up,” Ghoul said as he tightened the straps on his pack, further compressing his extra gear. “Should be a sight t’ see…if you live through it.”

He looked up in time to see Howzer’s optimistic expression falter, and it sent something sick and pleasurable racing through his veins. That’s right, the feeling seemed to say, don’t get complacent. Don’t get cocky.

Unfortunately, ‘giving up’ wasn’t one of the qualities that had gotten Howzer promoted to Captain. He fixed his expression into something more neutral and bent at the waist to haul one of Ghoul’s bags over his shoulder, grunting with effort. If he thought he was helping, he was dead wrong, and Ghoul immediately jumped to his feet with a growl, getting in Howzer’s way and shoving at his shoulder.

“Drop it,” he ordered, exhaling around his cyg in a cloud of smoke, sending it straight into the captain's face and watching his eyes water.

“I’m just trying to help,” Howzer said, bewildered by Ghoul’s sudden aggression.

“Didn’t ask for it,” Ghoul said as he grabbed the strap of his bag out of the captain’s hands. “I don’t need help. I do things on my own.”

“Howzer! Kassurra!” came a call from halfway across the landing platform; a couple of Twi’leks waved enthusiastically, a greeting which Howzer returned like Ghoul wasn’t even there.

“Kass!” he called back. “Kei’nata ni!”

Of course he knew Ryl. He was such a good clone, nearly perfect in every way, from the ease with which he had tried to integrate with the people and the culture, to the way he treated Syndulla with the same respect usually reserved for Republic Admirals. Even his accent was affected with the tinge of Ryl dialect. Ghoul hated him more for what he represented. The GAR didn’t have need for recruitment posters, but if it did, Howzer would have been plastered all over them.

Kiss-ass, Ghoul thought resentfully.

Howzer dropped his arm back down to his side and looked over at the other two bags sitting at Ghoul’s feet as though contemplating making another go for it; he seemed to think better of it though and stood rooted in place. 

“It’s not so bad here, you know,” he said, still trying to broker…something between them, some illusion of brotherhood that Ghoul wanted no part in. “Once you get used to the heat and the humidity, you start to see the beauty of the land.”

He doubted it. Ryloth was many things, but ‘beautiful’ wasn’t the first word that came to mind. Too many times he had felt like he was being steamed alive in his armor, sweat soaking through his blacks as he stalked through the thick, unforgiving jungles, avoiding the indigenous and carnivorous wildlife that had driven Twi’leks to live in caves for their own safety. If Howzer thought differently, then he needed to get himself checked out by medical for brain damage brought on by heatstroke.

“I don’t care,” Ghoul growled. 

“It’s not just deserts and jungle,” Howzer continued, nonplussed. “If you make it past the Jixuan there’s these mountains—”

“Listen,” Ghoul snapped, losing his patience, “Whatever it is you’re trying to do…just stop. It’s embarrassing how much you think I give a damn.”

Howzer blinked, somehow managing to piss him off even more. There was something about him that was…different, even for a clone. His eyes were almost too big, his face a little too symmetrical. There was no other word for it, he was pretty. If any one of them could be considered ‘designer’, then it’d have to be Howzer; the longnecks must’ve slipped something a little extra into his slurry while he marinated, for him to turn out the way he had.

While not strictly his fault, Ghoul took offense to it nonetheless. 

“Is there anything else you want to bother me about, or can I go?” he asked.

“Wow,” Howzer grumbled. “I had heard from Wolffe that you were a little standoffish, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”

Ghoul froze.

Wolffe was talking? About him?

He dropped his bag onto the pile with the others and fixed his glare on Howzer, who stood there with a look on his face that said he wasn’t all that aware of the danger he was currently in.

“Oh yeah?” Ghoul said in a rough whisper. “And what else did Wolffe say about me?”

To his credit, Howzer didn’t back down. 

“He said not to expect anything from you but the bare minimum—just the mission, nothing more.”

I’m going to kill him.

“You should have listened,” Ghoul spat, getting close and jabbing a finger against Howzer’s chestplate. “I got sent here against my will, to do the job that you failed to do. That’s it. I don’t care about you or anyone else on this rock. The only thing I’m interested in is making it back to base and forgetting I was ever here.”

“You talk real big for someone who just risked his life to ensure the Twi’leks have a chance to make it through this war,” Howzer said, his amber eyes flashing with barely concealed anger. He held his fist tight at his side and Ghoul wished, wished he’d make a move. Maybe he could get lucky and bleed some of his stress out before the trip back, and give Howzer a few little reminders why he should keep minding his own karking business.

“Like I said,” Ghoul hissed, “I didn’t ask for this assignment. I was just sent here to clean up after you.”

“We’ve done everything we could,” Howzer said, drawing himself up indignantly. “You were our last resort before the Council was going to send the Jedi.”

“The Jedi,” Ghoul echoed mockingly. He picked the cyg from his mouth and flicked it at Howzer, watching as it bounced off his shoulder and fell to the ground. “There’s an idea. Why don’t you call them next time? I’m sure they’ll solve all your problems for you.”

“You hate them.”

“Is stating the obvious the only thing you’re good at?”

“Is it because of that?” Howzer asked, tapping his own jaw. He had a scar there, freshly formed and still pink at the edges where the new skin grew on the torn edges of the wound, the shape of which indicated shrapnel as the most likely culprit. Ghoul stared, black rage climbing the ladder of his ribs until he felt that he could reach out, put his hands around Howzer’s neck and squeeze until he stopped speaking, stopped breathing, stopped looking at him.

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Howzer continued, “but I heard rumors you were the only survivor of the 331st. Their last campaign…it was on Toydaria, wasn’t it?"

Ghoul inhaled sharply. Ryloth’s air was warm, moist, but nothing compared to Toydaria, where every breath had felt like they were drowning, even through the advanced air filtration of their helmets. He had tried not to think about how similar the two climates actually were ever since his arrival.

“Weren’t Jedi part of that battle?”

For all the good they’d been. He still couldn’t bear the sound of lightsabers and part of his special conditions for continued duty included keeping him as far from Jedi as possible, a condition the GAR had only been able to fulfill by assigning him solo missions. It was probably the only thing they’d done right.

“What happened?” Howzer pressed, completely incognizant of the distress every single one of his words afflicted.

“Shut up,” Ghoul managed to hiss. “Just…shut the hell up.”

He didn’t know what he was talking about—he didn’t have any right to talk about it. 

No one did.

For a moment it seemed like Howzer was going to prove himself the biggest idiot in all the GAR and keep pressing buttons. He looked like he wanted to, though for the life of him Ghoul couldn’t figure out why. 

What could he possibly gain from opening old wounds and sticking his fingers into them, like it was his business to do so? Only Wolffe knew the details of that fateful campaign, having pieced together events from the reports submitted by the Jedi Knight who had also survived. The rest he had pulled out of Ghoul himself, bleeding him so slowly with quiet questions and gentle touches that had only made recounting more difficult.

He didn’t want to remember.

If there had been a way for him to forget, some experimental procedure he could have undergone that would have sucked the memories from his brain, he would have. Anything was better than knowing what he now knew.

And Howzer…Howzer didn’t have any claim to it.

“Sorry,” the captain said, with the audacity of someone who was sorry but didn’t understand why. “It’s just…I’ve been trying to figure out what’s made you so detached; you’re a good soldier, I can see that much, but you don’t…you don’t act like the rest of us."

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Ghoul asked, feeling like he had just run half a dozen laps around the landing pad for the way his heart thrummed in his chest. He wanted Howzer to shut up, wanted him to swallow his karking tongue, and there was nothing he could do about it because there were two many eyes around, too many clones and too many Twi'lek, and Ghoul was willing to bet they all liked Howzer better than they liked him.

Howzer shrugged. 

“I’ve never met a brother who was…so cold.”

There it was. 

If he could have laughed normally, he would have. Of all the ridiculous complaints lodged against him, being cold was the least of them. It didn’t matter how he treated his ‘brothers’, as long as they knew to stay out of his way and give him a wide berth. That was how he preferred things and, up until now, it hadn’t been a problem. But he could tell Howzer was young, a second gen clone at least; he didn’t understand war yet, not in the way Ghoul did. 

“It’s got nothin’ to do with you,” Ghoul said, fighting back the urge to reach out and slap him around a bit for being a nosey little idiot. “I’m like this with everyone. Ask Wolffe.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Howzer hurried to say. Off in the distance an announcement sounded over loudspeaker, signaling boarding for the transport leaving for Coruscant. “I mean, the people here, on Ryloth…they care. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but they’re appreciative of our help.”

We are not blind to their sacrifice.

He had tried not to think too much about her, the Twi’lek bartender, but being surrounded by her people, on her planet, made it difficult. Not only were there reminders of her everywhere he looked, but now Howzer’s words echoed a sentiment she had tried to instill in him the last time they spoke. His skin prickled with the feeling of being cornered, like he was being pressured into admitting to something he didn’t believe in.

“I don’t care,” Ghoul said, exasperated and at the end of his rope for how much more he could tolerate. “They’re only grateful because they’re desperate. They’d be licking the boots of anyone who showed up to help.”

“That’s not true,” Howzer frowned. “They’ve been nothing but accepting.”

“Tch. Don’t kid yourself. No matter what you do, no matter how many battles you manage to scrape together, you’re never going to be accepted by them. You’re not one of them.”

He struck a nerve. He could tell almost immediately from the way Howzer’s jaw clenched, the muscle twitching as he ground his teeth together. Ghoul watched the scar on his cheek stretch and contract with the movement and wondered if there was a limit to how much abuse Howzer was willing to take before he snapped. But maybe it wasn’t the insults thrown his way that bothered him so much.

“With all due respect,” Howzer said, drawing himself up and standing back at attention, “You’re wrong, Commander. You’re wrong about the Twi’leks and you’re wrong about me.”

“Oh am I?”

“You are. I wasn’t assigned here against my will. I requested to be stationed on Ryloth. The Siege of Lessu was my first campaign before I made Captain—a complete and utter loss, by the way, so yeah, I’m aware you’ve had to clean up after us. But you know something?”

He took a deep breath, like he was getting something off his chest that had been weighing on him for some time, and Ghoul wished that he could be anywhere else at the moment.

“Syndulla and his people got us out of there. They knew this planet better than we did, knew how to utilize the cave systems and escape routes that have existed for thousands of years. They refused to leave my unit behind even though we were slowing them down. At the end of the day, after we made it to safety? They helped us mourn the dead, showed us how they burn their bodies to release their spirits back to the mother goddess, Kika'lekki. They shared with us everything they had, even when they had so little to begin with. We were nothing to them, nobodies, but they took us in and showed us kindness that I’ve never known before. So…yeah. I know I’m not one of them…but they make me feel like that doesn’t matter. Ryma gesu'tak allesh, Commander. Have a safe flight back to Coruscant.”

Howzer executed the tightest about face Ghoul had ever seen and strode away, leaving him alone on the platform with three packs filled to bursting with heavy, non-standard equipment and no one to help carry it all onboard. It was the way Ghoul preferred things to be; he didn’t need anyone’s sympathy, he didn’t need help, and he definitely didn’t want attention. 

The departure announcement sounded again, nearing its final call for boarding. Ghoul slung one of his packs over his shoulder and grabbed the others one in each hand. His legs moved like he was on autopilot, carrying him across the landing pad until he was safely strapped in to a seat, crushed between a small porthole and two other clones who had already decided to take advantage of the several hours they were going to spend in hypersapce to get some sleep. They leaned against one another, heads touching and cradling their helmets in their laps as they stretched their legs out over a crate in front of them. 

Every last centimeter of space was taken up by either bodies or supplies. There were more injured clones than not, but Ghoul wasn’t focused on them. He didn’t even seem to notice the sounds of their moans as the pain meds wore off, or the scent of dried blood permeating the cabin space. He barely noticed the gentle beeping of medical equipment hooked up to the worst of them. The only thing playing through his mind was the way Howzer had looked at him while delivering his final unwanted speech…and the little green Twi’lek bartender back on Coruscant.

It was uncanny how similar their words sounded when he played them back in his mind.

Out the porthole he watched as Ryloth got smaller and smaller, until they made the jump to hyperspace. He hadn’t planned on sleeping, but ended up not having much of a choice as he made himself as comfortable as he could, leaning against the cold hull with his arms crossed over his chest. His dreams were scattered, disjointed and unintelligible except for the one that woke him up gasping for air and looking around to see where the hell he was; he didn’t sleep again after that, and by the time they finally landed on Coruscant, he had all but forgotten what the dream had been about.

Mandatory debriefing lasted only two days, with one day being fully given over for making his report to higher-ups. Ghoul had to grit his teeth to get through the whole thing and somehow managed not to lose his tenuous grasp on his sanity when one of the Senators started asking idiotic questions about the mission. He didn’t know the name of the Jedi general who came to his rescue and took over fielding questions, but he didn’t care. He was just about done with it all. He wanted a smoke…and a drink.

He…he realized he wanted to go to 79s.

For a drink, he told himself. Not to see her, though he doubted she cared after the last time they parted ways. His last memories of her were the way she had moved across the stage at Rollo’s, flexible and lithe, wearing clothes that left so very little to the imagination. He had watched her dance through three different songs, until he forced himself to leave because he could no longer ignore the tightness in his pants. He couldn’t even remember making it back to the barracks, only that he had headed straight to the showers and spent all of his time allotment in one of the corner stalls, blasting cold water against his head and back as he fisted his cock until he came hard enough to make his knees buckle.

He was so sure she wouldn’t want to see him again after that night, positive that she had never expected him to stand there like his boots had sunk through the floor of that dingy club and watch her dance, and so he had avoided 79s like the plague until his assignment to Ryloth. He didn’t want to admit to any guilt…but he had thought about the way she had swung herself around the poles so often he was almost certain he had permanently burned the image of her into the backs of his eyelids.

And now there he stood, outside of 79s and feeling like the same kind of pathetic loser he had called Howzer for daring to express a simple desire for acceptance among a people he didn’t belong to.

He didn’t even know if she was working today.

You’re not gonna find out by standing out here, Ghoul told himself, before shoving his way inside. It was still too early to be crowded, but several clones had already gathered in pockets, some lounging around at tables with their kits half-on, half-off while others actually had time to change into their dress uniforms. Ghoul stood there at the entrance in his dark armor, helmet once again tucked under his arm as he scanned the bar, looking for—

Yes. There she was, serving drinks to a couple of grizzled, first-gen commanders. He didn’t know how he had ever mistaken the muted, blanched greens of the Twi’leks on Ryloth for her; it felt like an insult to how vibrant her skin glowed beneath the neon lights above the bar. He watched her for a moment, the cheerful way she greeted the other clones and spoke to them, leaning over the counter to better understand them when they asked a question too low for her to hear. She came away laughing, a little flush on her cheeks that made Ghoul feel like he needed to break something before she finally noticed him standing by the door.

It had to be his imagination that made the blush on her cheeks spread to her lekku, just a trick of the lights. She smiled brightly in his direction and waved before turning back to the bar to grab a bottle off the top shelf. Ghoul steeled himself and made his way to the seat at the end of the counter, closest to the wall—the seat that, somewhere down the line he had come to think of as his seat.

“Ghoul,” the Twi’lek said warmly as he sat down and she slid him a small glass, “it is so good to be seeing you again! It has been a long time since last we met…I wondered where you had gone.”

Ghoul picked up the glass and sniffed at the liquid within. Just as he thought: Catsblood.

“Just another mission,” he said, trying to push down the overwhelming sensation of relief that flooded his entire body. He didn’t know why, but this felt a bit like…like coming home. He didn’t try to think about how it was the first time since Toydaria that he had bothered stepping foot into 79s without either Wolffe or Fox present, or the fact that he didn’t feel burdened to answer her innocent question with anything other than the truth. He could look at her now without feeling the burn of annoyance he usually felt when dealing with civvies.

“Anything you are allowed to talk about?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. Her lekku sported a striped pattern that he hadn’t seen on any other Twi’lek he had encountered on Ryloth; the way the stripes fell against her forehead almost reminded him of the way some people wore their hair with bangs. 

“It’s classified,” he said, wondering what she’d say if she knew he had been to her home planet. 

“That figures,” she sighed, still smiling. She smiled at everyone, but for some reason when she aimed it at him…it felt more personal. “Most of the interesting missions always are. I will have to use my imagination then, to come up with a good story for where you have been these past two months.”

Months. Yeah, it’d been about that and some change since he had last seen her. Nothing about her or the bar was different—still the same old 79s, with its gaudy decor, cheap drinks, and sticky floors, still the same cheerful bartender. Ghoul took a sip and found the Catsblood warm, the way he liked it, because too much ice messed with his prosthetics, made some of the internal synth-metal pieces contract painfully. She had remembered, the same way she remembered his name.

Ghoul didn’t know how to verbalize the way it made him feel. It was such a small detail, such a pitiful thing to get excited about, but when he knew he could sit at the bar, not even look at a menu, and she’d serve him anyway? It felt like for the first time in his life, his opinions mattered. That he was someone outside of the armor.

It made him feel like she saw him as…a real person. 

The image of Howzer arose in his thoughts, the way he smiled and acted so friendly all the time, especially with the members of the Twi’lek rebellion, and Ghoul remembered Howzer’s parting words to him—“I know I’m not one of them…but they make me feel like that doesn’t matter.” 

Was it something like this? Was it the same way he felt just sitting in a bar and not caring who was staring at him, because he could get a drink without asking for it and the bartender smiled at him like she was happy to see him, even though it had been two months since the last time, and even though there were other clones, friendlier than him who made her laugh and blush? Ghoul wondered what she might think of Howzer, with his candid expressions and his perfect smile, his affable nature and the easy way he seemed to have picked up her language. He bet Howzer would never call her stupid, or insult her people to her face.

Ghoul winced at the memory and quickly downed half his drink, holding it between his synthetic cheeks just long enough to feel the comforting burn spread across the roof of his mouth.

“You, uh…been doin’ alright?” he asked haltingly, trying to remember what it felt like to make smalltalk with someone he wasn’t actively trying to get away from. 

“It is the same as ever,” the Twi’lek replied, leaning over the counter and resting on her elbows. “When I am not working or volunteering I am sleeping; always those three things, I think. I am lucky if I find time to read.”

“What do you read?” Ghoul asked.

“Many things, but I enjoy an escape every now and then—would you believe I love the mystery stories the best?”

“No,” he said, “I wouldn't have guessed.”

She was close enough that he could move his arm and they’d be touching. She’d never gotten so far into his personal space before, and he hadn’t seen her do this with the other clones who made her laugh. Maybe she treated all of her customers the same whenever he wasn’t around, though.

“What about…the other place?” Ghoul asked, trying to think of things to say. “You still work there?”

“Yes, but not so loud!” she whispered, holding up a finger to her lips. No one could have possibly heard, but she looked worried all the same. Maybe it was a mistake to bring that up so immediately; she might think it was the only thing he had thought about the entire time he had been gone.

“Anyone been bothering you?” he tried again, feeling more stupid and worthless by the second. It had been so easy for the other clones to drag a peal of sharp laughter out of her. What had they managed to say that had been so amusing? What was he missing? He didn’t remember conversation being this difficult before; he could still make Fox and Wolffe laugh, but he didn’t think their brand of humor was something she’d find funny. 

“Sometimes,” she admitted, “but that is part of the job. There will always be customers who drink too much and let it go to their heads; they are handsy and loud, but nothing more.”

Handsy? Ghoul thought to himself.

He remembered the look of her slender wrist caught in the grip of the drunk who had assaulted her, the way she had worked to free herself in a pointless struggle that hadn’t ended until he had stepped in. Was it more of the same? More like that? He didn’t know much about her, but he knew that she was the type to put up with a lot from others, maybe more than any sensible person would have under normal circumstances. 

And it gave him an idea.

“Hey,” he said, “what time do you get out of here?”

It’s my imagination, he told himself when he thought he saw a blush reappear on her cheeks. 

“In—in a few hours,” she said, stumbling over her words a bit. “Why?”

“I want you to meet me somewhere.”

She looked suspicious for a moment, the ends of her lekku flicking in a way that Ghoul thought might be curiosity. He didn’t speak Ryl, or know all the ways Twi’lek communicated using their lekku, but he wouldn’t blame her for thinking he was up to something. He was going off of a whim and if it worked then maybe he wouldn’t need to subject either of them to the painful way he kept grasping at attempts to communicate the same way others did. 

Ghoul grabbed a napkin and smoothed it out on the countertop in front of him; he didn’t have anything to write with, but he didn’t even need to ask before the bartender was holding out a pen of her own, a curious look on her face as she watched him write down coordinates (and then, on a second thought, he wrote down the actual address because that’s probably what civvies did when they were trying to give directions). 

“It’s not far from here,” he said. “You can walk it. I’ll have everything set up by the time you arrive.”

“So mysterious,” she said, taking the napkin and reading it over. “Just like my favorite genre. Alright, I will accept this offer…but are you sure you will not be waiting too long? Sometimes I am made to stay and clean before I leave.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ghoul said, feeling a little lighter when she didn’t immediately reject him. “I’m on leave for the next few days. I’ve got time.”

“What is it for?”

“...you’ll see when you get there.”

That brought a smile to her face. A small one, but the way her mouth curved felt like a dagger slipped between his ribs, more effective than any vibroblade. 

“I like surprises,” she murmured, folding the napkin into a square and slipping it into the pocket of her pants. “Okay. I will see you in a little while. Thank you.”

He wanted to tell her not to thank him just yet; it was honestly a harebrained idea and if it fell flat he didn’t plan on showing his face anywhere near her again. But he was riding the high the idea had brought and he still needed time to go and get them registered. If she got there and hated everything about it, he’d deal with the fallout then.

For now though, he downed the rest of his drink, slapped his credits down on the bar and grabbed his helmet.

“Oh,” he said before he took his leave. “I uh…forgot to ask.”

“Yes?” 

Ghoul averted his gaze, unable to look her in the face as the parts of his cheeks not mottled with scar tissue heated up in an embarrassed flush.

“What’s your name again?”

He didn’t see her initial reaction, but when he heard her laugh he looked up just in time to see the way her nose scrunched up before she covered the lower half of her face with her hand. 

Oh.

“Odessa,” she said, humming with amusement.

Ghoul stood there a moment, transfixed by the way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth to try and keep her smile from taking over her entire face.

“Odessa,” he repeated with a nod. “I won’t forget this time.”

~~~

Odessa didn’t realize she had been keeping track of the days since she had last seen Ghoul until he walked back through the doors at 79s, wearing the dark armor she had become so accustomed to seeing him in and carrying his helmet beneath his arm as rules dictated. 

She had made note of the last time he had come to the bar, just a little memo she kept at home for her own amusement, but as the days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months she had grown worried. Of course he was a soldier, and soldiers were made for the battlefield, but she didn’t know his rank or position and had no idea what attachment he was a part of. She thought about asking Commander Wolffe the next time he showed up, but lost her nerve when he did. 

She didn’t want to seem as though she was fishing for information…even though that’s exactly what she wanted to do.

The same night Odessa had caught Ghoul watching her dance at Rollo’s she had gone back to her tiny one room flat and thought about him. She thought about him more than she had ever thought about any clone who had come through the bar before and determined for herself that she…she had started to think of him in ways that were no longer strictly professional. Ghoul had piqued her interest from the start with his dark looks and his gruesome prosthetics, but the more she observed him and interacted with him the more she had begun to take an interest in who he was beneath those things. 

Yes, he was rude, abrasive, aloof, and only seemed to care about Commanders Wolffe and Fox, but he was also…oddly considerate. Not on purpose, she thought, but he paid for his drinks each time in spite of her trying to give him at least one on the house. He tipped proportionately when he could and didn’t drink what he couldn’t pay for, even if she couldn’t pour it back into the bottle. He obeyed the sign at the door and removed his helmet, even though she felt confident in assuming he would have preferred to leave it on for as long as possible. He kept his head down and minded his business, like he didn’t really want anyone to take notice that he was there.

And then, more recently, he had proven that he could be considerate. Odessa still didn’t believe that he had jumped to fight those drunks in order to save her—they had insulted him, and she knew more than a few other clones who would have happily swung first—but in doing so he had stopped them from potentially hurting her or destroying the bar. He had offered to escort her to Rollo’s for no reason other than he thought it would be dangerous for her to walk alone, in spite of the fact that she had already made the short journey a hundred times before he had even known about it.

He’s nice, she told herself as she quickly wiped down the counters one last time while Rumi and Cyna clocked in for the evening shift. He’s nicer than he was in the beginning, at least. I think I could like him.

She actually thought she could do a whole lot better than just ‘like’ him, but she didn’t want to get ahead of herself.

“Everything is ready for you,” Odessa called out to her coworkers as she threw off the apron she wore around her waist. “Remember to do the restock at the end of the night—you do not have to wait for everyone to leave, you can start before as long as it is not too busy!”

“Stop worrying about us and go enjoy your, uh…date or whatever,” Rumi said, waving her off.

“It is not a date,” Odessa said, while her heart leapt in her chest. 

“Okay, don’t get murdered then, I guess!”

Odessa rolled her eyes and left the other two girls to figure out how to survive without her covering for them as she quickly ran outside to take the napkin out of her pocket. It was a little damp from where she spilled beer on herself trying to carry too many mugs at once, but at least the ink hadn’t bled. Ghoul’s handwriting was messy, but legible, and the address he left her was in an area she only partially knew, located near one of the large military bases. Curiosity consumed her—normally she would always refuse the offers she received from patrons to take her out after work, but this felt different. 

Ghoul’s intentions were a mystery, but the fact that he had wanted her to meet him instead of waiting for her so they could go together kept Odessa grounded in reality; it wasn’t a date, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t looking forward to it. 

She had to stop twice to ask for directions, but once she made it past the base she had a better idea where she was headed.

And it was a surprise.

It made sense that there’d be a firing range right outside of a military base, but it had never occurred to Odessa to visit one. She couldn’t legally own a blaster anyways, so learning how to shoot was just something that had never crossed her mind. She could almost hear her father’s voice echoing around her thoughts, telling her there was no point in teaching her since she wouldn’t be joining the rebellion—her heart throbbed painfully with the memory, her throat suddenly tight as she remembered the angry tears she had spilled over the argument.

Suddenly she…didn’t feel so sure about this anymore.

But, true to his word, Ghoul was waiting for her outside. He took up more than his fair share of a bench, smoke curling from his mouth as he exhaled off a cygarette. He saw her coming in the same second she noticed him and quickly stubbed out the death stick before she got too close. Odessa didn’t mind the smell, but it was a nice gesture.

“I was not expecting this,” she said as soon as she was close enough that she didn’t have to shout to be heard. “Are you sure I am allowed to go in?”

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Ghoul asked, giving her an odd look. “It’s mostly clones, but the range is open to the public; if anyone looks funny at you, just tell me. I’ll set ‘em straight.”

She had meant it more in the sense of legality, whether it was okay for her to even look at a blaster, let alone go inside a building where she assumed she’d be surrounded by them, but something about the way Ghoul reassured her filled her with a sense of calm. He wouldn’t have brought her here just to humiliate her in some way. 

“So what is this place?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at the seemingly endless walls; it was at least three stories tall. “What are we going to be doing?”

“Just some target practice,” Ghoul said, opening the door; he started to go in first then seemed to think better of it, and stood aside to gesture her in ahead of him. Odessa  hugged herself nervously, but allowed him to usher her inside the cool, air-conditioned room. As her eyes adjusted to shift in brightness, she felt him nudge her with his elbow toward another set of doors past a counter and rows upon rows of blaster power cells. There were a few people browsing, a couple of standard clones who didn’t appear to have any self-imposed modifications as well as a human woman wearing custom armor. 

“I do not know how to shoot,” Odessa heard herself say as the distant sound of blasterfire sent cold shivers running up and down her arms.

“I know,” Ghoul said from right behind her, “I’m going to teach you.”

Father would be displeased, she thought to herself. He had done everything in his power to keep weapons of any kind out of her hands from the earliest age she had begun to show an interest in learning to use them, and he had forbidden everyone her family knew from teaching her in secret. He was well-respected within their village and didn’t fear disobedience from anyone.

But this wasn’t Ryloth and Ghoul, she suspected, feared no one.

Trepidation began to loosen its hold on her as anticipation slowly took its place. Odessa allowed herself the freedom to look around, watching with interest as Ghoul accepted a black duffel bag from one of the workers behind the counter; they looked at her strangely for a moment, but he leaned in and tapped his finger sharply against their shoulder.

“She’s with me,” he said brusquely. 

And that was the end of it. The employee found something far more interesting to stare at and Ghoul jerked his head at Odessa as he shoved open the doors that led into a brightly lit hallway. It stretched in both directions for what seemed like the entire length of the building, the white expanse of wall broken up by steel doors stenciled with a combination of letters and numbers. Ghoul took off to the right with the bag slung over his shoulder, headed for a predetermined destination and it was all Odessa could do to keep up with the length of his stride. She could tell he wasn’t used to being followed, or having to wait for someone to catch up. He was single-minded in his intent to get to where they needed to go.

“I have never held a blaster before,” Odessa admitted as he wrenched open door H19.

“We all start out that way,” he said, unmoved by her excuses. “You’ll never learn if you don’t try. Get in.”

She hurried to obey, scurrying under his arm as he held the door open for her. The room she entered looked smaller at first, until she realized it was only the width that made it seem so. The walls were covered in a soft, fabric material and a barrier separated the small area where they stood from the rest of the room, which stretched roughly forty-five meters to the other end. Odessa could see a series of targets lined up, sheets of paper sporting dark outlines in the rough shape of Separatist droids.

“They are so far away,” she said, “how will I be able to hit anything?”

“I do it all the time,” Ghoul snorted as he dropped the duffle bag onto the floor and knelt by it. He ripped open the zipper and rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling out a black, hard case, followed by a second one. Odessa’s heart rate spiked erratically when he popped the locks open to reveal a set of matching blasters. They looked much smaller than what she had seen before, but her memory betrayed her—those had been Separatist weapons, not Republic. The design Ghoul held was sleeker, fitted for organic hands, the grip situated closer to the trigger. 

The lump in her throat grew and she felt as though she couldn’t swallow around it. The chill crept back into her flesh, raising tiny bumps all along her arms and shoulders. She wrung her hands together, seriously contemplating telling him that she didn’t want to do this anymore, didn’t want to hold that cold, black thing in her hands, didn’t want to hear the sound it made when it went off.

“Here,” Ghoul said as he got back to his feet. He fit the other blaster into a holster on his hip, and she realized that these were his own personal weapons. He took hold of her elbow and dragged her closer to the barrier, setting the blaster down on the narrow siding. “I’m not an idiot, so we’ll go over safety first. This is the end blastbolts come out of; obviously, don’t point it anywhere you aren’t willing to shoot. This is the grip, the trigger, the power cell fits into here, and this is the safety switch.”

Odessa’s head swam as she watched him point out the parts of the blaster, information she realized she had already known, but had buried deep inside of her. She tried to say something, but the inside of her mouth felt as though it were filled with dust and she had to wet her teeth before trying again.

“That one there,” she said, pointing to a red button, “that is…for stunning?”

“Yes, good,” Ghoul said, sounding surprised. “We don’t use it on the range though; it doesn’t leave a mark and most of us are interested in our scores.”

“Score?”

“You’ll see in a minute. Now, look at this.”

His hands moved quickly and efficiently over the blaster, holding it at an angle away from himself as he popped the power cell containment. The cylinder fell into his waiting palm after a good tap and he set it aside. In the next moment he swept his arm up and pointed the blaster toward the target hanging at the other end; Odessa slapped her hands over her tcharan as he pulled the trigger…but nothing happened.

“It’s got no charge to it,” Ghoul said as he looked down at her. There was something close to amusement in his expression, she thought, but it was difficult to tell with his prosthetic. She knew though, just from the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled despite the scarring. 

“That was mean,” she said as she dropped her hands, cheeks burning in embarrassment, like she should have known better.

“It’s educational. Here, you can hold it now that it’s safe.”

He held the blaster out to her expectantly, but Odessa just stared at it. It looked so small in his hand, so unassuming, like a little toy. It was…difficult to believe the power it held…the danger it represented. She thought of her father and the way he would disapprove…and she thought of her mother, laying on the floor in front of her, eyes glassy and unseeing as smoke rose from a hole in her chest.

She tasted bile in the back of her throat and forced herself to swallow it back down, forced herself to reach out and grab the weapon before she let her fear get the best of her.

It was as cold as she expected it to be but weighed heavier in her palm than its compact design had led her to believe. She closed her hand around the textured grip and Ghoul shuffled to stand just behind her shoulder, so close she could have leaned back just a bit and her lekku would brush against his chestplate.

“Remember what I said,” he murmured, “don’t point it at anything you don’t wanna shoot.”

“I have been paying attention,” Odessa murmured back as she slid her other hand along the side of the blaster, feeling it out. She toggled the safety switch and pressed the button that switched the modes for stun and kill, popped the bottom of the grip where the power cell fit in place, but avoided the trigger entirely. She didn’t know if she could do it, even while it presented no danger. 

Ghoul observed her quietly, his presence at her back offering some comfort. She trusted that he knew what he was doing, that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. Odessa knew he wouldn’t have invited her out to the range if he hadn’t thought her competent enough to at least try to learn. She still didn’t understand why, but…there was a part of her that didn’t want to disappoint him. He had come all this way and went through who knew how much trouble just to see her inside the building…it would shame her too much to back down now, after his show of trust.

Hesitantly, reluctantly, she slid her finger around the trigger and pulled back. 

It didn’t budge.

“It is broken,” she said apologetically, after trying again with both hands to no avail. 

Ghoul snorted and reached around her. He touched the back of her hand before his finger joined hers on the trigger, helping her hold it steady. The noise she swallowed would have been embarrassing, had she let it slip past her lips.

“Don’t yank on it,” he muttered, his breath a warm puff against the back of her lekku. “You gotta squeeze.”

He demonstrated what he meant, helping her slowly pull back until the trigger clicked, indicating it would have fired a shot.

Odessa squeezed her eyes shut—this time, the chill that ran up her spine had nothing to do with fear.

“I do not understand why it is so hard,” she said, trying to distract herself from how close Ghoul stood to her. She swayed in place and felt her hip brush against his kit; in response, or maybe just because, he took a step back.

“It’s to guard against accidental discharge,” Ghoul said. “You get used to it after a while. Ready to try with a live cell?”

“I…I do not know,” Odessa said, biting her lip. She set the blaster down on the siding the way she had watched him do before, and turned to look at him. “Why are you teaching me this? I am…not a soldier.”

He blinked down at her, his eyes giving away nothing. She didn’t know if it was because they were cybernetic or because he was trying very hard to school his expression, but he had always been more difficult to read for that reason. 

“You don’t have to be a soldier to need to know your way around a blaster,” Ghoul said, his hands on his hips. “Consider these self-defense lessons.”

“But I do not own a—”

“I’ll deal with that later. Look, do you wanna do this or not?”

Odessa looked back down the range at the target. It was so small and so far away; there was no way she’d ever be able to make such a shot on her own, not even in the case of an emergency. If she were ever in a position where she was caught unawares, she’d have no choice but to surrender without a fight.

She closed her eyes and her mother’s stared back at her, dull and empty, lifeless.

“Yes,” she said, inhaling sharply. “Yes, I want to.”

“Good.”

Ghoul knelt back down and dug through his bag again, coming back up with a pair of protective earmuffs and glasses that looked as though they hadn’t been used in a very long time.

“Will these fit?” he asked, holding both items out for her to take.

Odessa took the heavy earmuffs in hand and turned them over, pulling on either earpiece to see how far they stretched. 

“I think so,” she said, trying them on. They were a little tight over her tcharan, but the sound of her own voice was muffled now. The glasses fit her awkwardly, but they were not made with Twi’lek anatomy in mind.

“What about you?” Odessa asked when she saw Ghoul stand back up without any additional safety gear for himself. 

“Relax,” he said, then reached to his ears to fiddle with his hearing aid. “Volume’s down, so talk louder if you want me to hear you. Here’s the power cell. How you watched me take it out? It goes back in the same way. Just push until you hear the click. The gauge shows how much of a charge you got left. Keep the safety on until you’re ready to make your shot.”

Odessa’s hands shook as she tried to follow his directions. She felt clumsy, like a child trying to figure out a new toy for the first time. It didn’t help that she felt his eyes on her, judging her for the amount of time she wasted trying to do what he could in seconds. 

“There,” she said as the gauge lit up, showing a full charge. “Now what?”

“Now you point it at the target, line up your sights, and squeeze the trigger.”

“You make it sound so easy,” she grumbled loudly, holding her arm out to point the blaster toward the target.

“Both hands,” Ghoul growled, roughly tapping her other shoulder. His fingers were hard and sharp, jabbing into her painfully. Odessa scowled but corrected her grip with one hand cradling the other. She heard him sigh in exasperation and he reached over her shoulder again, pressing against her back to do so.

“Extend this finger,” he said, uncurling her pointer that wasn’t on the trigger. “Hold it against the barrel like this; it helps steady your shot.”

“Do you normally teach?” she asked as her lekku twitched. He was so broad, so warm. Her heat-seeking heart wanted to lean into him, which was a silly idea, very stupid. She distracted herself by tapping her newly extended finger against the side of the blaster.

“I don’t waste my time with shinies,” Ghoul said. “They got instructors on Kamino for that. How’s that feel?”

“Like I am holding a blaster in my hands.”

“Alright, smartass. Go ahead and take your time. Shoot only when you’re ready.”

“I am going to miss.”

“Probably.”

Odessa pouted, but their banter felt…a little more playful this time. She could swear Ghoul was enjoying himself. Already he had spoken more words than he ever had before and had invaded her personal space twice. She didn’t mind it at all, even though it put her back in the headspace she had been trying to escape from for the past two months, where thoughts of the way his hands might feel on the ends of her lekku tormented her. She wondered how much of his prosthetic jaw was for show. 

“I am aiming,” she said, closing one eye to try and focus down the tiny sights on the top of the blaster.

“Eyes open,” Ghoul ordered. Odessa made a noise of frustration and glanced over her shoulder to shoot him a little glare. Nonplussed, he shrugged.

“You see better with both eyes open,” he said. “It’s common sense.”

“Okay,” she said, licking her lips as she refocused. It was such a small target, impossible for anyone except an expertly trained soldier…but she took a deep breath, flicked the safety off with her thumb, and squeezed the trigger the way Ghoul had shown her, slowly exerting pressure until she felt it give.

TSSEEW!!

Odessa yelped as the blaster fired, the recoil reverberating up through her hands and into her forearms. It tingled in the same way her leg felt when she sat with it folded beneath her for too long, like it had gone to sleep. Fuzzy was the right word. She could taste her heart in the back of her throat, heard the blood rushing through her head. For a moment, she almost felt dizzy. Quickly, Odessa flicked the safety back on and set the blaster down, taking a step back and bumping into Ghoul as she did so.

His hands flew to her shoulders for the briefest of moments, then fluttered away, like he was…unsure about the ways he could touch her. Small gestures seemed to be alright, but anything more set him on edge, though whether he was being considerate of her own comfort over his was unclear.

Odessa took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes again, counting through numbers until she didn’t feel like her legs were going to give out from under her. When she looked toward the target to see whether or not she had hit it…there was only a blackened mark on the wall far to the left…and about a meter too high.

“I told you I would miss,” she said, ripping off the earmuffs. “This is pointless.”

"It's only pointless if you give up. Stop whining."

"The target is too far away! How can anyone hit it from back here?"

Ghoul sneered and reached for his blaster so quickly Odessa barely had time to pull her earmuffs back on before he fired. Unlike her, he held his blaster in one hand and aimed from a sidestance and unlike her, all three of his rapidfire shots hit the target dead center, three perfect holes that made her one attempt look even more pathetic.

“You missed because it's your first time, " Ghoul said. "And you closed your eyes at the last second. And your stance is…kriffing awful. Come on, put those back on and try again. You’re not leaving until you can at least hit the target.”

She almost refused…but she remembered the way she had cried when her father took her brother out to show him how to use a blaster, leaving her behind. It had dug a hole in her heart, one so small it had been easy to ignore for the past decade. This…could very well be her only chance to learn what she had been denied so long ago.

With a sigh, Odessa pulled the earmuffs back on and tried to adjust them so they weren’t so uncomfortable. Ghoul waited for her at the barrier, and this time when she picked up the blaster his hand hovered over her arm, like he wanted to take hold. Odessa swallowed, the ends of her lekku curling.

“You can touch me, if you need to,” she said.

“...what?”

“I said…if I am standing wrong, you can touch me—to fix it.”

Ghoul didn’t say anything for so long that she thought he hadn’t heard her at all. Or maybe he was trying to find a way to refuse. She realized a little too late that her words could be taken the wrong way, out of context, and hoped he’d mistake her blush for one of stress. Another moment passed in which she considered telling him to forget what she had just said, but then she saw his fingers curl a bit in hesitation before he took hold of her arm, cupping her elbow in a firm grip. 

Odessa felt him press against her back, then jumped as he knocked his boot against her feet, kicking them a little further apart. His other hand fell to her hip—she imagined the way his last two fingers flexed against her, surely—and he used his hold to forcibly angle her body so one foot was planted ahead of the other. She wasn’t sure she felt any sturdier than she had before, but he seemed pleased at least.

“Now I shoot?” she asked, looking back at him.

He was close, so close she could see the fine details of his prosthetic, the black-on-black pattern etched into the pieces on either side of the bottom row of teeth, and the impossibly tiny screws holding them together. His eyes were more silvery than white, and the scarring surrounding them more extensive than she had previously realized. 

“Hold on,” he said. His hand had never left her elbow and he held tight as he leaned over her shoulder, unblinking as he adjusted her aim. Odessa found herself holding her breath as every inch of her became painfully aware of every inch of him. 

“Alright,” Ghoul said. “Go ahead and shoot.”

She squeezed the trigger too quick and the shot went wild, this time to the right of the target; the blastmark against the wall sat closer, but still a little too high.

“Stop tensing,” he snapped, squeezing her arm. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I am not tensing!” she protested. “I am doing exactly as you said!”

“Like I can’t feel it? No one’s shooting back at you, so loosen up.”

He gave her a little shake that made her want to ‘accidentally’ step on his foot, but his criticism was valid. He was probably regretting his decision to teach her how to shoot now that he saw how bad she was at it, but Odessa didn’t want to give up. She wasn’t a quitter

“Again,” she said. “There is plenty of charge left. And you are on leave, are you not? We have time.”

She heard him sigh.

“Fine. Let’s try and make at least one passable shot.”

The next two attempts failed in the same way, with one narrowly missing the target and the other scorching the floor and almost sparking another argument. Ghoul’s frustration with her inability to make one clean hit was only matched by her stubborn refusal to back down. Her fifth shot did better—it clipped through the edge of the target, burning the paper. Ghoul still counted it as a miss and helped her adjust her stance again by just a small margin. 

Odessa’s hands felt numb, like they were filled with stinging insects. She could scarcely feel her fingers anymore and she truly had no idea how clones could do this day in and day out. She felt her respect for them climb ever higher, knowing how useless she would have been on the battlefield. She tried not to think of her father and the infamous I–told–you–so expression he wore whenever he was proven right. None of that mattered.

“I think I am beginning to get the hang of it,” she said when her next shot actually hit the edge of the target’s outline.

“Barely,” Ghoul snorted as he slid his hand further up her arm, toward her shoulder. “On Kamino they’d have dropped you back in the tank for reconditioning.”

“What’s that?” she asked, immediately curious. She had never heard him—or any clone, for that matter—speak openly about the watery planet from which they originated. Rumors ran rampant, of course, but she never trusted any piece of newsworthy information that didn’t come with sources attached.

“It’s…it’s when clones don’t do as well as they’re supposed to in simulations,” Ghoul said. Odessa felt the change in his grip as much as she heard it in the tone of his voice, the way his fingers stiffened and all the emotion bled out of him. He sounded so different, so guarded all of the sudden that she felt bad for asking.

“What happens?” she pressed, despite the warning signs that this was a subject best left alone.

“...they’re made to start over.”

She didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but there was finality to his words that she didn’t argue. He didn’t want to talk about it and she didn't want to push him any farther. Whatever 'reconditioning' was, it couldn't be anything good.

"One more, I think," Odessa said, changing the subject to distract Ghoul. "I will hit the target this next time, I am certain."

"...we'll see."

He lowered his hand from her arm and took a step back, leaving her at the barrier alone. Without his support, she felt the ache in her shoulders more poignantly. The scent of burnt ozone hung in the air and the blaster felt slippery in her hands, a combination of the sweat from her palms and the heatsink compensating for the power cell and capacitors. She really didn't want to disappoint him….

Odessa inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled just as slowly. She stared down the sights of the blaster, lining them up with the target in the distance. 

Just squeeze, she coached herself. Slowly and firmly.

TSSEEW!!

The blasterbolt ripped through the paper, incinerating a good portion of the target's shoulder and chassis. It wasn't a direct shot, nor was it perfect, but it was a solid hit.

"Yes!!" Odessa cheered, setting the blaster down before jumping around in a circle. She beamed at Ghoul, who stood there with his eyebrows raised like he hadn't expected her to actually do any better.

"Your expert teaching has paid off!" she claimed as she set aside the earmuffs. "So now I sign up for battle, yes?"

He chuckled—actually chuckled— and shook his head.

"I didn't think you'd be able to do it," he admitted. "Guess I don't mind being proven wrong. Good job."

His praise, however small, made her feel as though she could float away. More than anything she liked the way he looked, the shape of his eyes narrowed the same way they would in a smile and the lines of his body more relaxed. She liked the easy way he talked to her now, versus his clipped way of speaking at 79s. He was…handsome, she thought. Not in the usual way, but…it was something else, something that wasn't necessarily physical.

Odessa continued to beam at him, feeling for all the world that she could launch into the sky, circle the sun, and come back down for a perfect landing. And she hadn't wanted to hold the blaster at first.

"Now what?" she asked, rocking on her heels. "More targets?"

"Not today," Ghoul said, stretching. "I need to get back to base. We only had an hour here anyway."

"Then next time," Odessa suggested, feeling very brave. "Next time we…try again."

Ghoul looked startled for a second, then confused. Did he not think she'd want to do this again, just to be around him if nothing else?

"It will be good practice," she insisted before he could say anything. "I am still not so good a shot…it will take more times before I can be like you."

That drew out another little snort of amusement and Ghoul shook his head.

"A whole war wouldn't be enough to get you on the same level as me," he said, "but you gotta start somewhere. Come on, pack up."

He made her discharge the blaster's capacitor before letting her pack it back into its protective carrying case, and then he hauled his bag back over his shoulder again and shooed her out the door. The target itself came with them, rolled up and tucked beneath his arm until he handed it to her to carry. Odessa hadn’t realized she would be allowed to keep it, but she was already making plans in her head where she would hang it as a memento in her apartment. 

The hallway was abandoned except for another pair of humans also ending their training session—not clones, she saw, but what looked like a father and son. Their hair color matched, at least. The boy looked scarcely older than thirteen and, still riding the high from making her shot, Odessa waved at him with a smile when he looked up.

He grinned and waved back enthusiastically—and too late she realized he waved with the same hand holding a blaster.

TSSEEW!!

Odessa didn't have time to react as the shot ricocheted toward them, but she felt an arm encircle her shoulders and push down, hard enough to send her crumpling to her knees mid-step. She curled in on herself instinctively, a hand coming up over the top of her head as she dropped, followed by the weight of another body against her back. The blasterbolt struck the wall, the floor, then the ceiling as it traveled down the hall, burning itself out and sending sparks everywhere. One of the lights flickered, damaged beyond repair, and several doors swished open as people came out to see what the commotion was.

She heard the noise of people shouting—“You karking idiot, who let that brat in here?! Take that thing away from him before it goes off again!”—and footsteps pounding against the floor, the loud, panicked cries of the boy—“I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!”—and the loudspeakers feeding an announcement into the air for everyone to remain calm. Her heartbeat sounded in her head like the staccato beat of a wardrum and she couldn’t move, frozen to the floor with the rolled up target clutched to her chest like it was her only lifeline.

The hard plasteel of Ghoul’s armor dug into her side, but then she saw his boot come into view. He knelt over her, practically straddling her hips for a moment before climbing to his feet. She caught a glimpse of his expression—incandescent with rage, yet it sent a thrill racing through her—and then he held out his hand to her.

“Get up,” he hissed. 

Odessa grasped at his gloved hand and let him yank her to her feet as though she weighed nothing at all, practically lifting her off the ground until she gathered her legs beneath her. Her limbs shook wildly and she gasped, not realizing she had been holding her breath. 

“You hurt?” he asked, looking her over.

“N-no,” she replied. “Just startled, I think.”

“Good. Come on.”

He pushed her in front of him, steering her toward the exit doors with a hand on her shoulder; they passed the boy and his father, who were now surrounded by a combination of other patrons and employees, all of them shouting so loudly the sound of it hurt her head. Odessa pressed a few fingers to her temple to quell the throbbing and allowed Ghoul to guide her until they were both outside. She took a deep breath of fresh air, closing her eyes and trying to calm her nerves. She was rattled, but untouched. It was harrowing, but just an accident. No one was hurt. It was okay.

Ghoul paced about four meters away, already smoking a cygarette that she hadn’t noticed him light up. She could hear him muttering to himself, his tone dark and murderous; she didn’t need to hear what he was saying to know that he probably wanted to go back inside and give those two a piece of his mind. Maybe if she hadn’t been there he would have…or maybe he would have done worse, she thought, remembering the violent way he had reacted to the drunks at the bar. Maybe leaving had been the best option.

As the adrenaline wore off, Odessa felt exhaustion take hold of her, filling her limbs with a sluggish feeling that told her she’d sleep well tonight if the nightmares didn’t take hold. Too much excitement for one day, and she hadn’t even managed to change out of her work uniform. Ghoul dropped onto the bench by the wall, having already burned through half of his cygarette. 

“Are you alright?” Odessa asked as she joined him, gingerly taking up the space at the far end of the bench. His leg hadn’t stopped bouncing since he sat down and all his muttering had ceased, replaced with a dark, haunted look that filled her with apprehension. His mood shifted him into someone unknown, but she didn’t want to simply ignore it in the hopes that he would return to the Ghoul of only a few moments ago.

“I’m fine,” he said tersely, inhaling on his death stick. “I get shot at all the time; it’s nothing new.”

“Not like this though,” Odessa said as she squirmed in place. “It is not supposed to be happening here.”

“...no. It was an accident—a kriffing stupid one. They need to ban that idiot until he teaches his brat blaster safety.”

“...thank you, for saving me.”

This time she was certain that was what he had done. There was no need to second guess herself when he had acted so quickly, putting himself between her and harm’s way like it was the most natural thing in the world. She wondered how much of his actions were due in part to his training, versus instinct. Or maybe they were the same thing to clones, who were bred to endure conditions worse than an accidental discharge. Odessa swallowed and looked up to the sky, painted in shades of orange and crimson as the sun began to set.

“Don’t need thanks,” Ghoul said beside her. “Just…did what I’m supposed to.”

“Still,” she sighed, “it was dangerous. Thank you.”

He grunted and flicked the rest of his death stick to the ground, getting to his feet again and jerking his head at her.

“Where do you live,” he asked, and there was a tiredness to his voice that she felt reflected in her bones. They were both worn out, it seemed.

“Not far, actually,” she said, also getting to her feet. “But you do not need to accompany me. I can find my own way.”

“Wasn’t asking permission,” Ghoul said. 

Odessa smiled and shook her head, but led the way back down a level, like she was headed toward 79s. Her apartment was very small, part of a series of lower-income housing funded by the Senate and rented mostly by immigrants such as herself. It was close enough to the bar that she walked to and from every shift, but far enough from the shelter that she had to take a skyliner with three transfers. 

They walked in silence the entire way, Ghoul managing to get through another whole cygarette before he seemed to finally relax. She hadn’t said anything, but she could tell that he had also been unnerved by the rogue blasterbolt. The difference between them was that he had still been able to take action, while she had all but seized up. Her father had been correct about her in a way that burned her to admit, but Odessa didn’t dwell on it for long. She didn’t want to end her day on a sour note.

“This one is me,” she said as she came to a stop in front of her door. Three flights of stairs and a balcony view was more than she ever could have hoped for, even if the inside wasn’t all that impressive. The paint of the door was cracked and peeling and the outside of the complex had seen better years. She didn’t think Ghoul would judge her for where she lived, so she didn’t let it bother her.

“Thank you again,” she said, turning to look up at him. “For the lesson, and for walking with me. You are full of surprises.”

Ghoul sniffed and avoided looking directly at her. Human skintones were all some variation of beige, pink and brown, but she could tell that he blushed from the way his ears reddened.

“It was nothing,” he said. “Just…felt like you should know how to shoot, since you’re always walking places by yourself.”

“You did not have to spend your precious time teaching me, but you did. I…enjoyed it very much.”

He squirmed like he was uncomfortable receiving her gratitude, like he didn’t quite know what to do with it. Odessa watched him for a moment, fighting the feeling building inside of her chest.

But why?

“Ghoul,” she said, to get his attention. He looked and she crooked her finger at him. “Come close.”

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning in like he was expecting her to tell him a secret, turning his ear toward her to better hear. She giggled and reached for his face, standing up on her toes and sliding her fingers along his prosthetic jaw to turn him back to look at her. The kiss she pressed to his mouth was gentle, lingering just long enough for her to realize that yes, his upper lip was as soft as it looked despite the scarring, and she didn’t at all mind the way the prosthetic felt. It was cool beneath her fingers, smooth metal and synth-flesh married together in an impressive feat of engineering that allowed her to kiss him the way she had been thinking about for too long.

“Thank you,” Odessa said as she rocked back on her heels. “I had fun, despite being shot at. You are a very good teacher.”

Ghoul just stared at her, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow. It wasn’t the first time she had managed to surprise him, but she was definitely beginning to master the act. She thumbed the line where the flesh of his cheek disappeared beneath metal and dropped her hand reluctantly. If she stood there any longer she would do something brash, like invite him inside. It was too much for one day, and she already had a lot to think about. She suspected sleep would not come easily for her, despite how tired she felt.

“I will see you again?” she asked. “At 79s?”

“Y-yeah,” Ghoul finally said, his voice raspy. 

“Good. Well…take care.”

She unlocked her door and slid inside, watching through the crack as Ghoul turned to leave, his movements halting and stiff. She watched as he glanced back at her door twice, a different look on his face both times; she had never met a man like him before, someone as guarded as he was, who didn’t seem to care for anyone or anything, and yet whose recent actions betrayed the very image he tried to project. 

Odessa watched until he descended the stairs out of view, then closed her door and leaned against it with a happy little sigh, her lekku flicking back and forth with delight.

I like him.

#star wars oc #star wars oc fanfic #the bad batch oc #friend oc #odessa x ghoul #the babies #they've come so far #;;A;; #i have never written so much in so short amount of time #the mun writes

[martianbugsbunny]

Martian’s Masterlist!

Figured it was about time I collected all of my fics into one area, will ofc be updating it as I write more. It’s sorted by ship, including wherefrom they originate, with a brief description of what type (one-shot, chapter fic, same-universe if I’m feeling saucy) and a short summary of what happens. V proud of myself for figuring out how to link these tbh, but if any of the links isn’t working for the love of Pete please let me know. Fics with more than one chapter will be linked to the first chapter because...logic.

For the tags, I have chosen to only use the ship names, not __ x __ format, for the sake of trying to keep the tags somewhat in hand. I have, however, tried to use what I’m aware of being the most popular/common names for ships, as well as the alternate ones I’ve seen for more niche stuff. Also tagged are the shipped characters. If I add new ships, I'll have to reblog bc of the tag limit.

*Hands you the rabbit hole* Have fun going down!

CaptainCroc/GoldenHook (Rumplestiltskin x Killian Jones {Once Upon A Time}):

Is This Love Persevering? (It Feels More Like The End of the World): One-shot. Established CaptainCroc mourning the loss of Baelfire. Canon-divergent for the sake of Rumple actually getting to attend his son’s funeral.

Who Makes You See Color: Chapter fic, 14 total. CaptainCroc soulmates AU where one person sees color earlier than the other. Extends from pre-Dark One era to the First Curse being broken.

The Truth Echoes Darkly: Short series; part 1 for The Truth Echoes Darkly. Echo Caves AU where instead of Emma, Hook confesses that he loves Rumple for maximum awkward.

The Echo Goes On: Short series; part 2 for The Truth Echoes Darkly. Back in Storybrooke, Rumple finds himself obsessed with Hook and realizes that he’s fallen in love as well.

My North Star: One-shot. Established CaptainCroc vow renewal, featuring Hook’s inner thoughts about how much he loves Rumple.

Better Than Blood: One-shot. Pretty racy, but the point is thinking about the poeticism of having sex with your ex-nemesis.

Cherik (Charles Xavier x Erik Lehnsherr {X-Men Movies}):

Sweetheart Will You Sleep With Me: One-shot. The night before they fight Shaw, Charles and Erik make the most of the little time they know they have left together and sleep in Charles’ room. Fluff, don’t get too excited by the title lol.

Baby While You’re At It: One-shot. Based on a Jessie Murph song. Angst with a happy ending. Charles is furious when Erik crashes a party at the school, so they have it out in the kitchen and get more-or-less back together by the end.

Espionage Husbands (Talos x Nick Fury {Captain Marvel/Secret Invasion}):

Locked In This Embrace: One-shot. Focuses on the forehead-touching scene from Episode 1, plus an original scene or two afterwards. Mostly Talos pining for Nick with a happy ending.

If You Are Gilgamesh And Did These Things: One-shot. Angst without a happy ending because the author was very upset and sad when Talos died. Nick is grieving Talos; Sonya isn’t helping.

Frankenwolf (Ruby Lucas x Victor Frankenstein {Once Upon A Time}):

Den of Blankets: One-shot. Ruby’s wolf instincts kick in during pregnancy and she builds a blanket-fort den. V fluff.

She Deserves To Have Your Name: One-shot (possibly same-universe as Den of Blankets). Victor has doubts about whether or not their child should have the name Frankenstein, but Ruby wouldn’t hear of anything else.

It’s Just A Dream: One-shot. Ruby has a nightmare spawned from her fears of being a bad parent; Victor comforts her.

As The Storm Blows Through: One-shot. Victor has anxiety during a storm because of what happened with Gerhardt, and Ruby comforts him.

Secret Admirers Are For The Subtle: One-shot. Victor anonymously sends Ruby flowers at the diner so he can drop by, “notice” them, and stick around to sketch them, all so he can spend time with Ruby. She’s on to him the entire time.

Blue Skies Smiling At Me: One-shot. Utterly fluffy beach fic. Ruby is having a good day relaxing with her friends, and it only gets better when her handsome husband joins them.

Frankenberry And The Fruit Brute: One-shot. Fun little Halloween fic where Ruby and Victor discover the General Mills cereals that match their fairytale identities.

Precursor To A Love Song: One-shot. Hyperion Heights AU where Ruby and Victor meet and feel an instant connection, even though they don’t know why. She’s a fashion designer and he’s a piano player/freelance artist. Potential springboard for a full chapter fic if I feel like it.

HatterHare (Mad Hatter x March Hare {Adventures In Wonderland}):

The First Kiss: One-shot. Just a fluffy lil idea about what their first kiss might’ve been like.

Every Bit Of You: One-shot. Projection’n’stuff about food issues basically.

Kalluzeb (Garazeb Orrelios x Alexsandr Kallus {Star Wars Rebels}):

Don’t You Know It’s Because He Loves You?: One-shot. Kallus discovers that Zeb is in love with him via a Lasat Honor Guard tradition.

To Convince You That I Love You: Chapter fic. Kallus does risky things to prove he would do anything for love of Zeb, or that he’s worthy of him, and ends up getting hurt. Angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort.

Lokius (Loki x Mobius {Loki}):

The Man Of My Dreams And He’s Just Out Of Reach: One-shot (with a very long name lol). Mobius stands there across the street from Don’s house and misses Loki. Author was having some Feelings™.

Outlaw Queen (Regina Mills x Robin Hood {Once Upon A Time}):

A Slice Of Life: One-shot. Regina spends the day with her boys and thinks about how awesome it is to have them. V fluffy because the OQ family didn’t get enough of that.

Paxe/AxePaz (Paz Vizsla x Axe Woves {The Mandalorian}):

We Are Mandalorians: Our Love Must Be Forged: Chapter fic, 11 total. Axe and Paz slowly fall in love as they engage in the battle to retake Mandalore, more or less a fix-it for Paz dying in S3 canon.

PloKit (Plo Koon x Kit Fisto {Star Wars: the Clone Wars}):

Reader, Plo Married Him: One-shot. Plo and Kit share some quiet time just after their wedding.

The Tender Daily Ritual: One-shot. Basically just fluff; Kit helps Plo with lotioning his skin because it dries out in oxygen atmospheres.

Scogan (Scott Summers x Logan Howlett {X-Men Movies}):

Torn Between Love And Fear: One-shot. Scott wants to stay after sex and sleep in Logan’s room, but Logan is terrified of hurting him during a nightmare. Angst with a happy (and sort of spicy) ending.

You Scratch My Back, I’ll Scratch Yours: One-shot. Logan and Scott discover they have a mutual pain kink and indulge in it together for the first time. Incredibly spicy, I'm so proud of myself.

Spones (Spock x Dr. McCoy {Star Trek TOS}):

I Could Drink A Case Of You (I Would Still Be On My Feet): One-shot. Based on a Joni Mitchell song; angsty with a happy ending.

#martianbugsbunny writes fic #masterlist post #masterlist #captaincroc #goldenhook #rumplestiltskin #Killian Jones #Captain Hook #ouat #once upon a time #frankenwolf #ruby Lucas #victor frankenstein #hatterhare #mad hatter #March hare #adventures in wonderland #kalluzeb #Garazeb Orrelios #Alexsandr Kallus #paxe #axe woves #Paz Vizsla #Star Wars #plokit #Plo Koon #kit fisto #spones #spock #leonard mccoy

[the-littlest-kojin]

FFXIV Write 2023, Day Ten: Free Day

Sitting on the railing of the ship, Monroe stares into the grey water. Waves lap at the wooden hull of the ship, and wind howls about the rigging - the only sounds audible to the Viera.

Belowdecks, she knows, the Scions and the crew of the ship are sleeping. Somewhere, she is sure one of the sailors is awake - the crew would be a fool to have nobody on watch, especially on a stormy night like tonight - but she cannot see or hear them, wherever they are. 

The sail is fat with wind as she gazes into the choppy water - her brow furrowed as her thoughts turn inwards.

So distracted by her inner thoughts, she fails to notice as the water starts to churn unnaturally - the ship becoming becalmed as a vast whorl forms. The hair on her arms stands on end, as if harbinger to a levinstrike - but none comes.

It isn’t until a figure begins to rise from the twisting waters that she snaps from her reverie - and she instantly springs to her feet. Her mind still on her past, her hands fly to her waist - reaching for the daggers she long ago cast aside. When her hands close on empty cloth, she swears virulently, staring at the clearly deific figure rising from the waves.

Vast, a captain’s coat over its shoulders, the figure resembles nothing so much as a blue-skinned Viera. A tricorne hat rests atop a wild mane of hair - resembling the spray of water from a wave impacting a shore. A strong, broad figure is visible beneath the coat, as azure-toned lips turn downwards into a scowl upon seeing her.

God-slayer that she is, Monroe pulls her bow from her back, nocking an arrow - drawing it back to attack the water-formed giant. As the string comes taut under her fingers, the figure laughs - mocking and low.

“Sea-daughter, you know better,” it speaks, bypassing her ears to permeate directly into her mind. Confused, she shakes her head to try to clear the phantom sensations - the taste of salt on her lips, the sun on her upturned face, the sea calling to her-

“Your weapons will not harm me, Sea-daughter. Lower them. Now.”

Gripping her bow tighter, Monroe grits her teeth. Warrior of Light. God-slayer. This figure was clearly akin to the Primals it is her job to shoot, to fight, to slay. So why could she not bring herself to fire?

Clearing her throat, she forces herself to speak - her voice rough and low. “Why do you call me that?” she asks, the first question that comes to her tongue.

A vast hand wraps around the lower half of her body, turning into froth-capped waters as it does - pulling her from the deck as irresistibly as a riptide. “I call you Sea-daughter because that is what you are. Your own kin left you on my shores, and so I claimed you, and claim you, and will claim you. You are Sea-daughter, and I hold your past in my bosom.”

“My… Past? What do you mean?”

Even as Monroe asks the question, trying not to notice that she is being held a dozen fulms or more above the water, a wind fills her ears, carrying a voice. A voice she recognises - her own, raised in song, so young and pure.

“Our ship lies at anchor, she's ready to dock

I wish her safe landing, without any shock”

As the wind fades, the hand holding her resolves into solidity once more - leaving her sat upon the vast palm of the deity, rather than held in water. The ghost of a smile crosses the giant figure’s face, even as Monroe stares in shock.

“What… Do you want?” “Want? I want for nothing, nothing, nothing, Sea-daughter. There is nothing ‘pon wind and wave that is not mine, to claim as I will. But you want. What do you want, Sea-daughter?”

“I…”

Falling silent, Monroe stares helplessly up at the vast face. Racking her mind, she has no idea what the entity wants her to say. 

“I… Don’t know what I want.”

A frown, a pout, The figure seems crestfallen, as it replaces her on the railing of the Misery.

“A shame. But I am unending, fathomless. When you have your answer, you will know what to do. You will always return to me, Sea-daughter.”

Before the Viera can form an answer, the entity dissolves with a booming crash, soaking the deck with salty spray - and leaving her sputtering brine from her mouth. The wind picks up again with a howl, the storm continuing on, but whatever was making her skin tingle is gone - leaving her confused and adrift.

~~~~~

Today's FFXIVWrite stars Monroe, from @avalon821! I hope you enjoy!

#ffxiv #ffxiv writing #ffxivwrite2023 #saltsong

[jessysapphireblue]

One Piece Advent Calender Door 9

Carols with our Soul King!

Door 9 : Carols

Walking through the snow with bags, you hummed a Christmas melody that you heard played in town, and you enjoyed it. Seeing the Sunny from afar, decorated and now with the tree, your heart warmed. Promising yourself you show them a Christmas they all gonna love.

Upon reaching the ship, you heard a soft melody on a violin. Storing the bags in your room, you laughed when you saw your christmas stockings now over your bed. Your boyfriend wanted it to be seen for everyone...bless his heart.

Walking out, followed the music to the upper deck and saw Brook playing. Hearing him try Christmas carols was something else. Especially when he began to scoff if he didn´t got a part right. Holding your chuckle in, you simply watched. “Ah, Goddess-san, you don´t have to listen to my poor attempts”, he said, back to you. “Why, I simply love to listen” “Ah, I apologize. I don´t really know any Christmas music but in town there are a lot who sing and play there” “Yes, I know. Makes me all warm”, you admitted and joined him.

“I feel like a bad musician”, he sighed, falling onto his knees. “Bad musician?! Brook, you are divine!!! I love to listen to your songs when you are alone. They bring me joy”, bending down to him, Brook looked at you. “We can play together”, you held your hand out and he took it. “Good” With a snip, water rose from the sea and transformed into a violin for you to play.

“I didn´t knew you could play” “Before you joined, I was the musician, then I became the allrounder, thanks to Nami and now Luffy promoted me as the Ship´s magician. Took a while for that”, you both laughed. “Now when you feel comfortable, join in when you want” He nodded and you breathed out, smiling before you began to play. Looking at Brook, he soon joined in with his Violin, both of you playing, as you added a soft tune of your voice to go along with the violin.

Brook was in awe. He heard your voice often but right now, he felt blessed by an angel. You were always kind to everyone, as he saw on Thriller Bark and even on your first meeting, you greeted him with a soft smile and handshake. You were a warm ray of sunshine for him and for everyone else. And you you were showing him christmas carols.

He was certain if he had a heart, it would melt. How could someone be so kind and gentle? Yet so strong? It was beyond his knowledge.

“So! Was not that hard, right?”, you stopped as did he “Ah, I was in thought” “That does christmas to you...right! Wait here. I have seen a book about chritmas carols! It would be perfect”, you admitted and dashed away, your violin returning to the sea it once was.

Coming back soon, you held a book to him >Christmas carols<. “In it are diverse Christmas plays. Try what you want”, you beamed. “Ah, thank you so much, Goddess-san” “That would make me immortal, which I am not”, you laughed and walked away. “Right! Would you like some tea?” “YOHOHOHOHO, always~” “Good”, you showed your thumb up and vanished into the kitchen, leaving Brook alone with his music, ready to make you smile on Christmas.

#luffy #luffy x oc #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #monkey d. luffy #one piece #straw hat luffy #anime and manga #straw hat pirates #straw hat crew #christmas #christmas carol #soul king brook

[windsweptinred]

Ok, one more! Desunity ! <3

5. What was the moment for you that made you ship them?

7. What are some good fics for this pairing?

11. do you have a song that reminds you of them?

yeah this is a rec bait 😂 so to balance it out:

What are some headcanons you have? Dealers choice on topic! OR! What do you think Desire first appeared to Unity as? And did Unity start seeing that there's more to Desire than meets the eye before the whole vortex business? and also still dealer's choice

Ah @mashumaru my dear..You always come up with the most amazing array of asks. Thank you ❤️

What was the moment for you that made you ship them?

Listening to Sandra James-Young say 'My golden eyes man' with such softness, such fondness... Such devotion. That made me sit up and pay attention. Up until that point I'd considered Desire and Unity's realtionship similar to the comics. Aka, so beyond not healthy!! But hearing that made me question why Unity would have such love for her 'man' under the circumstances. Why she talked about her beautiful little girl with such a sense of familiarity. The series had changed the dynamic, it intrigued me... And the rest is history.

What are some good fics for this pairing?

Family Matters by Anchanee. I cannot recommend this fic enough. It was one of the very first Desunity fics that didn't make them a side plot to Dreamling, but focused entirely on them. And it is soooooo good! That end chapter will melt you.

Also Miranda by imaginationisrainbowcoloured. God that one hits you right in the feels!

Do you have a song that reminds you of them?

I'd love to be deep and interesting with this answer... But my ultimate Desunity song is 'A little Party Never Killed Nobody (All We Got) by Fergie, GoonRock, and Q-Tip. It was the feature song for the Great Gatsby 2013 remake. And what can I say, the Gatsby is strong with this ship. 😅

Also, also.... And most ironically, Once Upon a Dream. I mean listen to the lyrics,

"I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream

I know you, that gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream"

I won't take credit for that one though. @ibrithir-was-here pointed out how much their tale is so Sleeping Beauty coded.

What are some headcanons you have? Dealers choice on topic! OR! What do you think Desire first appeared to Unity as? And did Unity start seeing that there's more to Desire than meets the eye before the whole vortex business? and also still dealer's choice.

Oooooo fantastic questions. I'm a ridiculous advocate for 20s 'The illusion of time kept moving' Dreaming courtship for Desire and Unity. So I think when Desire first appeared to the Unity is was in the guise of a dashing, 20s male, bright young thing. Aka, Unity's ultimate 'desire' in a romantic partner at the time.. It also one of my favorite personal headcanons is they went by Epi. (Short for Epithumia... Their Greek name. It's so frikkin adorable to think of Unity calling them that.)

Oh Unity's as sharp as the Corinthian's blades. She definitely caught on Desire was more then meets the eye. Maybe she thought they were a dream or nightmare? Part of me thinks by the time Unity awoke she knew exactly what Desire was, and was purposely vague with Dream to protect them. Did she support Desire's plan... Absolutely not. Was she most likely livid with them... Yup. Did she want to see them hurt, especially once the danger was passed... No. But to back track, yes, I Iove to think that slowly, Unity started to see Desire, accept Desire as their true self. And Desire began to drop the act. And wouldn't that just be a novel experience for Desire, to be loved, not for what they can be... But for themselves.

#Desunity #desire x unity #desire of the endless #unity kincaid #ask game

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

A STORM OF SWORDS

Summary & Foreshadowing Smorgasbord (Part II)

You can ignore this post, or you can open it and find out how Daenerys dies.

It is up to you to make the right decision.

ASOS Part II: UNDER THE CUT

Dark Daenerys Highlights & Laughs

Let's Dance: Stark vs. Targ

Showdown at the Trident

A Rat in a Maze 🐀🔪

The Usurper's Knife

Bran the Dragonslayer?

Storm x Storm 🦑🖤🐉

ASOS Part I: CLICK

Sansa Stark, Queen in the North

Jon Snow, King in the North

Jon (Aemon?) Snow

Jon the Builder & His Gift

Ahoy Matey! Arya Stark Sails the Ocean Blue

Bran the Broken, King of Westeros

High Septon Rickon?

Pick Your Poison: The Twins Meet Their End in the Mines of Casterly Rock . . . or King's Landing

Tyrion Lannister, (Prisoner?) Hand of the King

In Remembrance: A Look Back at Sandor Clegane's & Ygritte's Greatest Moments

ASOS Part III: CLICK

JONSA 🐺❤️❄️

ASOS Part IV: CLICK

Chapter Transitions

Previous books:

AGOT Summary & Foreshadowing: CLICK

ACOK Summary & Foreshadowing: PART I & PART II

Stumpy note:

If I didn't to give you credit for discovering something or if I missed any foreshadowing, please contact me and I'll rectify that.

Once again, I'd like to thank everyone that participated in the reread project. All of you have great observations and comments, I wish I could highlight them all. 🙂

DARK DAENERYS HIGHLIGHTS & LAUGHS

Davos recalls the time King's Landing burned, and gives us some fun language in the process.

And then some vast beast had let out a roar, and green flames were all around them: wildfire, pyromancer's piss, the jade demon. 

[...]

The sight of it seemed to stop his heart for a moment, and he could still remember the sound of it, the crackle of flames, the hiss of steam, the shrieks of dying men, and the beat of that terrible heat against his face as the current swept him down toward hell.

[...]

In his dreams the river was still aflame and demons danced upon the waters with fiery whips in their hands, while men blackened and burned beneath the lash. - Davos I, ASOS

+.+.+

The gargoyles ripped apart, and the Targaryen fleet crumbled when Daenerys Stormborn entered the world.

No squall could frighten Dany, though. Daenerys Stormborn, she was called, for she had come howling into the world on distant Dragonstone as the greatest storm in the memory of Westeros howled outside, a storm so fierce that it ripped gargoyles from the castle walls and smashed her father's fleet to kindling. - Daenerys I, ASOS

+.+.+

A choice she'll always make.

Captain Groleo was an old Pentoshi like his master, Illyrio Mopatis, and he had been nervous as a maiden about carrying three dragons on his ship. Half a hundred buckets of seawater still hung from the gunwales, in case of fires. At first Groleo had wanted the dragons caged and Dany had consented to put his fears at ease, but their misery was so palpable that she soon changed her mind and insisted they be freed. - Daenerys I, ASOS

+.+.+

And never full.

He was always hungry, her Drogon. - Daenerys I, ASOS

x

Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. - Daenerys X, ADWD

+.+.+

Balerion was useless in calm.

But the great cog Balerion was a song of a different key; a ponderous broad-beamed sow of a ship with immense holds and huge sails, but helpless in a calm. - Daenerys I, ASOS

+.+.+

The jokes are writing themselves.

"I cannot see Drogon," said Ser Jorah Mormont as he joined her on the forecastle. "Is he lost again?"

"We are the ones who are lost, ser. - Daenerys I, ASOS

+.+.+

I'll take Things You'd Never Hear Bran Say, for $500.

"He could be very harsh to those he thought his enemies."

"A wise man never makes an enemy of a king," said Dany. - Daenerys I, ASOS

+.+.+

Daenerys, the Third of Her Name.

Whitebeard bowed his head. "It is not my place to question the words of Prince Viserys."

"King," Dany corrected. "He was a king, though he never reigned. Viserys, the Third of His Name. But what do you mean?" - Daenerys I, ASOS

+.+.+

The third-born aunt better hope the real heir isn't out there somewhere.

She tried to imagine what it would feel like, when she first caught sight of the land she was born to rule. - Daenerys I, ASOS

+.+.+

A brother tries to steal a prize from Drogon's jaws.

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. - Daenerys I, ASOS

+.+.+

Other & dragon parallels that make us laugh: "Oh" edition.

The wights had been slow clumsy things, but the Other was light as snow on the wind. It slid away from Paul's axe, armor rippling, and its crystal sword twisted and spun and slipped between the iron rings of Paul's mail, through leather and wool and bone and flesh. It came out his back with a hissssssssssss and Sam heard Paul say, "Oh," as he lost the axe. - Samwell I, ASOS

x

When he raised his whip, he saw that the lash was burning. His hand as well. All of him, all of him was burning.

Oh, he thought. Then he began to scream. - The Dragontamer, ADWD

+.+.+

Other & dragon parallels that make us laugh: smoking blood edition.

When he opened his eyes the Other's armor was running down its legs in rivulets as pale blue blood hissed and steamed around the black dragonglass dagger in its throat. It reached down with two bone-white hands to pull out the knife, but where its fingers touched the obsidian they smoked. - Samwell I, ASOS

x

The dragon gave one last hiss and stretched out flat upon his belly. Black blood was flowing from the wound where the spear had pierced him, smoking where it dripped onto the scorched sands. He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I. - Daenerys IX, ADWD

+.+.+

Thunder is crashing and booming, and a kingdom is falling.

Outside the thunder crashed and boomed, so loud it sounded as if the castle were coming down about their ears. Is this the sound of a kingdom falling? Catelyn wondered. - Catelyn III, ASOS

x

Finally the crone opened her eye and lifted her arms. "I have seen his face, and heard the thunder of his hooves," she proclaimed in a thin, wavery voice. - Daenerys V, AGOT

x

He flapped them once as he swept back above the sands, and the sound was like a clap of thunder. - Daenerys IX, ADWD

+.+.+

Azor Ahai reborn.

Thank you, @agentrouka-blog!

She talks of prophecies . . . a hero reborn in the sea, living dragons hatched from dead stone . . . she speaks of signs and swears they point to me. - Davos V, ASOS

x

"The frightened child who sheltered in my manse died on the Dothraki sea, and was reborn in blood and fire. This dragon queen who wears her name is a true Targaryen. - Tyrion II, ADWD

x

Stone, she told herself. They are only stone, even Illyrio said so, the dragons are all dead. - Daenerys III, AGOT

x

It is written in prophecy as well. When the red star bleeds and the darkness gathers, Azor Ahai shall be born again amidst smoke and salt to wake dragons out of stone. - Davos III, ASOS

x

Dany looked and saw it, low in the east. The first star was a comet, burning red. Bloodred; fire red; the dragon's tail. She could not have asked for a stronger sign. - Daenerys X, AGOT

x

Dragonstone was grim beyond a doubt, a lonely citadel in the wet waste surrounded by storm and salt, with the smoking shadow of the mountain at its back. - Prologue, ACOK

x

"Burnt," said Salladhor Saan, "and be glad of that, my friend. Do you know the tale of the forging of Lightbringer? 

[...]

It is said that her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the face of the moon, but her blood and her soul and her strength and her courage all went into the steel. 

[...]

A true sword of fire, now, that would be a wonder to behold. Yet at such a cost . . . When he thought of Nissa Nissa, it was his own Marya he pictured, a good-natured plump woman with sagging breasts and a kindly smile, the best woman in the world. He tried to picture himself driving a sword through her, and shuddered. I am not made of the stuff of heroes, he decided. If that was the price of a magic sword, it was more than he cared to pay. - Davos I, ACOK

x

"He told me the moon was an egg, Khaleesi," the Lysene girl said. "Once there were two moons in the sky, but one wandered too close to the sun and cracked from the heat. A thousand thousand dragons poured forth, and drank the fire of the sun. - Daenerys III, AGOT

x

"I wish I had a flaming sword." Arya could think of lots of people she'd like to set on fire. - Arya IV, ASOS

x

When your dragons were small they were a wonder. Grown, they are death and devastation, a flaming sword above the world." - Daenerys III, ADWD

+.+.+

A warning or a prophecy? Despite George R. R. Martin's best efforts, the readers of the book still don't get it.

"An ant who hears the words of a king may not comprehend what he is saying," Melisandre said, "and all men are ants before the fiery face of god. If sometimes I have mistaken a warning for a prophecy or a prophecy for a warning, the fault lies in the reader, not the book. But this I know for a certainty—envoys and pardons will not serve you now, no more than leeches. You must show the realm a sign. A sign that proves your power!" - Davos V, ASOS

+.+.+

Fire consumes her.

Thank you, @agentrouka-blog!

"I know the cost! Last night, gazing into that hearth, I saw things in the flames as well. I saw a king, a crown of fire on his brows, burning . . . burning, Davos. His own crown consumed his flesh and turned him into ash. Do you think I need Melisandre to tell me what that means? Or you?" - Davos V, ASOS

x

"Fire consumes." Lord Beric stood behind them, and there was something in his voice that silenced Thoros at once. "It consumes, and when it is done there is nothing left. Nothing." - Arya VIII, ASOS

x

"Did you know that my brother set the Blackwater Rush afire? Wildfire will burn on water. Aerys would have bathed in it if he'd dared. The Targaryens were all mad for fire." - Jaime V, ASOS

x

That hair she had. Well, the hottest fires burn out quickest. - Jon X, ASOS

x

The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don't you see? Don't you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children. - Daenerys X, AGOT

+.+.+

Harpy or Daenerys? Old Ghis or House Targaryen?

In the center of the Plaza of Pride stood a red brick fountain whose waters smelled of brimstone, and in the center of the fountain a monstrous harpy made of hammered bronze. Twenty feet tall she reared. She had a woman's face, with gilded hair, ivory eyes, and pointed ivory teeth. Water gushed yellow from her heavy breasts. But in place of arms she had the wings of a bat or a dragon, her legs were the legs of an eagle, and behind she wore a scorpion's curled and venomous tail.

The harpy of Ghis, Dany thought. Old Ghis had fallen five thousand years ago, if she remembered true; its legions shattered by the might of young Valyria, its brick walls pulled down, its streets and buildings turned to ash and cinder by dragonflame, its very fields sown with salt, sulfur, and skulls. The gods of Ghis were dead, and so too its people.

Yet the symbol of the Old Empire still endured here, though this bronze monster had a heavy chain dangling from her talons, an open manacle at either end. The harpy of Ghis had a thunderbolt in her claws. This is the harpy of Astapor.

[...]

Kraznys mo Nakloz bobbed his head. He smelled as if he'd bathed in raspberries, this slaver, and his jutting red-black beard glistened with oil. - Daenerys II, ASOS

x

"An old rhyme a maester taught me, when I was a boy. I never knew how true it was. The bricks of Astapor are red with the blood of the slaves who make them." - Daenerys II, ASOS

x

And above it all, frowning down from Aegon's high hill, was the Red Keep; seven huge drum-towers crowned with iron ramparts, an immense grim barbican, vaulted halls and covered bridges, barracks and dungeons and granaries, massive curtain walls studded with archers' nests, all fashioned of pale red stone. Aegon the Conqueror had commanded it built. His son Maegor the Cruel had seen it completed. Afterward he had taken the heads of every stonemason, woodworker, and builder who had labored on it. Only the blood of the dragon would ever know the secrets of the fortress the Dragonlords had built, he vowed. - Catelyn IV, ASOS

+.+.+

Missandei, the best slave.

No older than ten, she had the round flat face, dusky skin, and golden eyes of Naath. The Peaceful People, her folk were called. All agreed that they made the best slaves. - Daenerys II, ASOS

+.+.+

I don't know, maybe we shouldn't use this army.

"They are chosen young, for size and speed and strength," the slave told her. "They begin their training at five. Every day they train from dawn to dusk, until they have mastered the shortsword, the shield, and the three spears. The training is most rigorous, Your Grace. Only one boy in three survives it. This is well known. Among the Unsullied it is said that on the day they win their spiked cap, the worst is done with, for no duty that will ever fall to them could be as hard as their training."

[...]

"To win his spiked cap, an Unsullied must go to the slave marts with a silver mark, find some wailing newborn, and kill it before its mother's eyes. In this way, we make certain that there is no weakness left in them." - Daenerys II, ASOS

+.+.+

Viserys returns to the story.

Kraznys waited for that to be rendered in the Common Tongue, and then continued. "This beggar queen must understand, such wonders do not come cheaply. - Daenerys II, ASOS

x

"Only lies offend me, never honest counsel." Dany patted Arstan's spotted hand to reassure him. "I have a dragon's temper, that's all. You must not let it frighten you." - Daenerys II, ASOS

x

She had not meant to be so sharp with Ser Jorah, but his endless suspicion had finally woken her dragon. - Daenerys IV, ASOS

+.+.+

Daenerys gets into bed with the wrong man.

Thank you, @sherlokiness!

Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of him, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow. - Daenerys II, ASOS

x

"A shadow on the wall," Varys murmured, "yet shadows can kill. And ofttimes a very small man can cast a very large shadow." - Tyrion II, ACOK

x

His bruises had mostly faded by now, and the swelling in his face had largely subsided, so Mormont looked almost human once again … though only vaguely like himself. The demon's mask the slavers had burned into his right cheek to mark him for a dangerous and disobedient slave would never leave him. Ser Jorah had never been what one might call a comely man. The brand had transformed his face into something frightening.

Tyrion grinned. "As long as I look prettier than you, I will be happy." - Tyrion XII, ADWD

x

Beneath her coverlets she tossed and turned, dreaming that Hizdahr was kissing her … but his lips were blue and bruised, and when he thrust himself inside her, his manhood was cold as ice. - Daenerys VII, ADWD

x

It was Lemore who forced the water from your lungs after Griff had pulled you up. You were as cold as ice, and your lips were blue. - Tyrion VI, ADWD

+.+.+

The grip is too tight.

Drogon raised his head and screamed, pale smoke venting from his nostrils, and Viserion flapped at her and tried to perch on her shoulder, as he had when he was smaller. "No," Dany said, trying to shrug him off gently. "You're too big for that now, sweetling." But the dragon coiled his white and gold tail around one arm and dug black claws into the fabric of her sleeve, clinging tightly. Helpless, she sank into Groleo's great leather chair, giggling. - Daenerys II, ASOS

+.+.+

Joffrey, Ramsay, Weese. Dogs have a habit of turning on their masters in this story.

Thank you, @agentrouka-blog!

"A word from me and these sheep would spill his stinking old bowels on the bricks," he said, "but do not say that. Tell them that these creatures are more dogs than sheep. Do they eat dogs or horse in these Seven Kingdoms?" - Daenerys II, ASOS

[...]

"The Good Master has said that these eunuchs cannot be tempted with coin or flesh," Dany told the girl, "but if some enemy of mine should offer them freedom for betraying me . . ." - Daenerys II, ASOS

+.+.+

George slips something in.

"I saw King's Landing after the Sack. Babes were butchered that day as well, and old men, and children at play. More women were raped than you can count. There is a savage beast in every man, and when you hand that man a sword or spear and send him forth to war, the beast stirs. The scent of blood is all it takes to wake him. Yet I have never heard of these Unsullied raping, nor putting a city to the sword, nor even plundering, save at the express command of those who lead them. - Daenerys II, ASOS

+.+.+

Never intending to part with a dragon, Daenerys is willing to pay the price of death and destruction.

Two thousand would never serve for what she meant to do. I must have them all. Dany knew what she must do now, though the taste of it was so bitter that even the persimmon wine could not cleanse it from her month. She had considered long and hard and found no other way. It is my only choice. 

[...]

Dany let them argue, sipping the tart persimmon wine and trying to keep her face blank and ignorant. I will have them all, no matter the price, she told herself. - Daenerys III, ASOS

+.+.+

Does history repeat itself in this story?

"Yet even queens can err. The Astapori have cheated you, Your Grace. A dragon is worth more than any army. Aegon proved that three hundred years ago, upon the Field of Fire."

"I know what Aegon proved. I mean to prove a few things of my own." - Daenerys III, ASOS

+.+.+

Some choose to learn from their mistakes, while others . . .

If I look back I am lost, Dany told herself the next morning as she entered Astapor through the harbor gates. - Daenerys III, ASOS

+.+.+

Dragonbone whip, with a woman's head.

Dany handed the slaver the end of Drogon's chain. In return he presented her with the whip. The handle was black dragonbone, elaborately carved and inlaid with gold. Nine long thin leather lashes trailed from it, each one tipped by a gilded claw. The gold pommel was a woman's head, with pointed ivory teeth. "The harpy's fingers," Kraznys named the scourge. - Daenerys III, ASOS

+.+.+

You are mine.

"IT IS DONE!" she cried at the top of her lungs. "YOU ARE MINE!" She gave the mare her heels and galloped along the first rank, holding the fingers high. "YOU ARE THE DRAGON'S NOW! YOU'RE BOUGHT AND PAID FOR! IT IS DONE! IT IS DONE!" - Daenerys III, ASOS

x

And after them came her handmaids, and then the others, all the Dothraki, men and women and children, and Dany had only to look at their eyes to know that they were hers now, today and tomorrow and forever, hers as they had never been Drogo's. - Daenerys X, AGOT

+.+.+

Kraznys or Viserys? She did not pause to contemplate the ruin, and never will.

Thank you, @decadelongsummer!

Dany swept the lash down as hard as she could across the slaver's face. Kraznys screamed and staggered back, the blood running red down his cheeks into his perfumed beard. The harpy's fingers had torn his features half to pieces with one slash, but she did not pause to contemplate the ruin. "Drogon," she sang out loudly, sweetly, all her fear forgotten. "Dracarys."

[...]

A lance of swirling dark flame took Kraznys full in the face. His eyes melted and ran down his cheeks, and the oil in his hair and beard burst so fiercely into fire that for an instant the slaver wore a burning crown twice as tall as his head. The sudden stench of charred meat overwhelmed even his perfume, and his wail seemed to drown all other sound. - Daenerys III, ASOS

+.+.+

Children.

"Unsullied!" Dany galloped before them, her silver-gold braid flying behind her, her bell chiming with every stride. "Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see." She raised the harpy's fingers in the air . . . and then she flung the scourge aside. "Freedom!" she sang out. "Dracarys! Dracarys!" - Daenerys III, ASOS

x

"The blood of children?" Robb pointed at the corpses. "How old were they? Twelve, thirteen? Squires." - Catelyn III, ASOS

+.+.+

Daenerys forgets who holds whips.

Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip - Daenerys III, ASOS

x

One man kept his saddle long enough to draw a sword, but Jhogo's whip coiled about his neck and cut off his shout. - Daenerys III, ASOS

+.+.+

Sobbing, begging, and dying while Daenerys sings her favourite song.

"Freedom!" she sang out. "Dracarys! Dracarys!"

"Dracarys!" they shouted back, the sweetest word she'd ever heard. "Dracarys! Dracarys!" And all around them slavers ran and sobbed and begged and died, and the dusty air was filled with spears and fire. - Daenerys III, ASOS

+.+.+

Lem Lemoncloak and Arya don't approve of the Mad Huntman's brand of justice.

A few feet away, a dozen iron cages hung from creaking wooden posts. Crow cages, Arya knew. The crows were mostly outside the cages, splashing in the water or perched atop the bars; inside were men. Lem reined up scowling. "What's this, now?"

"Justice," answered a woman at the fountain. - Arya V, ASOS

x

She had them nailed to wooden posts around the plaza, each man pointing at the next. The anger was fierce and hot inside her when she gave the command; it made her feel like an avenging dragon. But later, when she passed the men dying on the posts, when she heard their moans and smelled their bowels and blood . . .

Dany put the glass aside, frowning. It was just. It was. I did it for the children.

[...]

Dany remembered the horror she had felt when she had seen the Plaza of Punishment in Astapor. I made a horror just as great, but surely they deserved it. Harsh justice is still justice. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

+.+.+

Other & dragon parallels that make us laugh: visions of fire paired with visions of ice edition.

"With mine own eyes. After the battle, when I was lost to despair, the Lady Melisandre bid me gaze into the hearthfire. The chimney was drawing strongly, and bits of ash were rising from the fire. I stared at them, feeling half a fool, but she bid me look deeper, and . . . the ashes were white, rising in the updraft, yet all at once it seemed as if they were falling. Snow, I thought. Then the sparks in the air seemed to circle, to become a ring of torches, and I was looking through the fire down on some high hill in a forest. The cinders had become men in black behind the torches, and there were shapes moving through the snow. For all the heat of the fire, I felt a cold so terrible I shivered, and when I did the sight was gone, the fire but a fire once again. But what I saw was real, I'd stake my kingdom on it." - Davos IV, ASOS

+.+.+

If at first you don't succeed, add more wildfire and call Daenerys.

"I heard tell you almost burned the city down."

"A filthy lie. I only burned the river." - Tyrion XI, ASOS

x

So His Grace commanded his alchemists to place caches of wildfire all over King's Landing. Beneath Baelor's Sept and the hovels of Flea Bottom, under stables and storehouses, at all seven gates, even in the cellars of the Red Keep itself. - Jaime V, ASOS

x

We have sealed them with wax and pumped the lower vault full of water, but even so . . . by rights they ought to have been destroyed, but so many of our masters were murdered during the Sack of King's Landing, the few acolytes who remained were unequal to the task. And much of the stock we made for Aerys was lost. Only last year, two hundred jars were discovered in a storeroom beneath the Great Sept of Baelor. - Tyrion V, ACOK

+.+.+

What is happening to the other slaves?

"If battle is joined, let Grey Worm show wisdom as well as valor," Dany told him. "Spare any slave who runs or throws down his weapon. The fewer slain, the more remain to join us after." - Daenerys IV, ASOS

x

"Very well," Dany said. "Sellsword or slave, spare all those who will pledge me their faith. If enough of the Second Sons will join us, keep the company intact." - Daenerys IV, ASOS

+.+.+

Like locusts in sandals.

The raggle-taggle host of freedmen dwarfed her own, but they were more burden than benefit. Perhaps one in a hundred had a donkey, a camel, or an ox; most carried weapons looted from some slaver's armory, but only one in ten was strong enough to fight, and none was trained. They ate the land bare as they passed, like locusts in sandals. Yet Dany could not bring herself to abandon them as Ser Jorah and her bloodriders urged. I told them they were free. I cannot tell them now they are not free to join me. She gazed at the smoke rising from their cookfires and swallowed a sigh. She might have the best footsoldiers in the world, but she also had the worst. - Daenerys IV, ASOS

+.+.+

Mad.

"I say, you are mad."

"Am I?" Dany shrugged, and said, "Dracarys." - Daenerys IV, ASOS

+.+.+

That's not how you parley, Stannis.

"To mount our attack."

Ser Jorah Mormont scowled. "You told the sellswords—"

"—that I wanted their answers on the morrow. I made no promises about tonight. The Stormcrows will be arguing about my offer. The Second Sons will be drunk on the wine I gave Mero. And the Yunkai'i believe they have three days. We will take them under cover of this darkness." - Daenerys IV, ASOS

+.+.+

Like a whip.

Drogon looped his neck around to nip at her hand. His teeth were very sharp, but he never broke her skin when they played like this. Dany laughed, and rolled him back and forth until he roared, his tail lashing like a whip. - Daenerys IV, ASOS

+.+.+

Try Not to Think of Randyll Tarly Challenge.

Thank you, @aegor-bamfsteel!

This place was put to the torch a long time ago."

"Who did it, then?" asked Gendry.

"Hoster Tully." Notch was a stooped thin grey-haired man, born in these parts. "This was Lord Goodbrook's village. When Riverrun declared for Robert, Goodbrook stayed loyal to the king, so Lord Tully came down on him with fire and sword. After the Trident, Goodbrook's son made his peace with Robert and Lord Hoster, but that didn't help the dead none." - Arya VIII, ASOS

x

"When he did," Davos repeated. "They were his men. His sworn men. What choice were they given?"

"Every man has choices. They might have refused to kneel. Some did, and died for it. Yet they died true men, and loyal." - Davos IV, ASOS

+.+.+

The now extinct, once powerful family, that held Harrenhal, and had a great black bat as their sigil.

He found an old shield in the armory, battered and splintered, the chipped paint still showing most of the great black bat of House Lothston upon a field of silver and gold. The Lothstons held Harrenhal before the Whents and had been a powerful family in their day, but they had died out ages ago, so no one was likely to object to him bearing their arms. He would be no one's cousin, no one's enemy, no one's sworn sword . . . in sum, no one. - Jaime VI, ASOS

+.+.+

Other & dragon parallels that make us laugh: breathing fire edition.

The wight was burning, hoarfrost dripping from his beard as the flesh beneath blackened. Sam heard the raven shriek, but Paul himself made no sound. When his mouth opened, only flames came out. - Samwell III, ASOS

+.+.+

More fun with language during the Red Wedding (Arya XI, ASOS).

+.+.+

A hero wouldn't kill a child.

And Robert's relief was palpable. As stupid as he was, even he knew that Rhaegar's children had to die if his throne was ever to be secure. Yet he saw himself as a hero, and heroes do not kill children." His father shrugged. - Tyrion VI, ASOS

+.+.+

The stallion or the horns of a dragon?

Thank you, @a-maid-with-sunset-in-her-hair!

Jon sat between two merlons with only a scarecrow for company and watched the Stallion gallop up the sky. Or was it the Horned Lord? - Jon VII, ASOS

+.+.+

Her captain forgets to play along.

There will be more if we remain. The slaves are weak from the march."

"Freedmen," Dany corrected. "They are slaves no longer." - Daenerys V, ASOS

+.+.+

No subtext required.

"If I let Meereen's old brick walls defeat me so easily, though, how will I ever take the great stone castles of Westeros?"

"As Aegon did," Ser Jorah said, "with fire. By the time we reach the Seven Kingdoms, your dragons will be grown. - Daenerys V, ASOS

x

"If you were grown," she told Drogon, scratching him between the horns, "I'd fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag." - Daenerys V, ASOS

+.+.+

Freudian slip.

Thank you, @agentrouka-blog!

High on the walls of Meereen, the jeers had grown louder, and now hundreds of the defenders were taking their lead from the hero and pissing down through the ramparts to show their contempt for the besiegers. They are pissing on slaves, to show how little they fear us, she thought. They would never dare such a thing if it were a Dothraki khalasar outside their gates. - Daenerys V, ASOS

+.+.+

We require a man and a woman.

Collio began with his version of "The Dance of the Dragons," which was more properly a song for two singers, male and female. - Tyrion VIII, ASOS

+.+.+

More fun with language during the battle at the Wall (Jon VIII, ASOS).

+.+.+

Other & dragon parallels that make us laugh: the mouth of a dragon edition.

The ice pressed close around them, and he could feel the cold seeping into his bones, the weight of the Wall above his head. It felt like walking down the gullet of an ice dragon. - Jon VIII, ASOS

+.+.+

A god.

Up here in her garden Dany sometimes felt like a god, living atop the highest mountain in the world.

Do all gods feel so lonely? Some must, surely. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

+.+.+

Unpleasant rape metaphors, during the sacking of a city.

Thank you, @agentrouka-blog!

No one was calling her Daenerys the Conqueror yet, but perhaps they would. Aegon the Conqueror had won Westeros with three dragons, but she had taken Meereen with sewer rats and a wooden cock, in less than a day. Poor Groleo. He still grieved for his ship, she knew. If a war galley could ram another ship, why not a gate? That had been her thought when she commanded the captains to drive their ships ashore. Their masts had become her battering rams, and swarms of freedmen had torn their hulls apart to build mantlets, turtles, catapults, and ladders. The sellswords had given each ram a bawdy name, and it had been the mainmast of Meraxes—formerly Joso's Prank—that had broken the eastern gate. Joso's Cock, they called it. The fighting had raged bitter and bloody for most of a day and well into the night before the wood began to splinter and Meraxes' iron figurehead, a laughing jester's face, came crashing through. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

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Her sewer rats.

Her dragons had roared as one in that moment, filling the night with flame. The slaves are rising, she knew at once. My sewer rats have gnawed off their chains. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

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I'll take Things You'd Never See Bran Order, for $500.

She had decreed that murderers were to be hanged, that looters were to lose a hand, and rapists their manhood. Eight killers swung from the walls, and the Unsullied had filled a bushel basket with bloody hands and soft red worms, but Meereen was calm again. But for how long? - Daenerys VI, ASOS

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Sly shade from the author.

I have given Astapor a butcher king. Dany felt ill, but she knew she must not let the envoy see it. "I will pray that King Cleon rules well and wisely. What would he have of me?" - Daenerys VI, ASOS

x

"You see that at the end of the ['Lord of the Rings'] books, when Sauron has been defeated and Aragorn is king," Martin told the Advance. "It's easy to type, 'he ruled wisely and well,' but what does that constitute?" - George R. R. Martin

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If I look back I am lost.

All my victories turn to dross in my hands, she thought. Whatever I do, all I make is death and horror. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

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Right over her head.

"If blood is what you wish, let it flow. I am told you have freed your eunuchs. Freedom means as much to an Unsullied as a hat to a haddock." He smiled at Grey Worm, but the eunuch might have been made of stone. - Daenerys IV, ASOS

x

"My queen?" Daario stepped forward. "The riverside is full of Meereenese, begging leave to be allowed to sell themselves to this Qartheen. They are thicker than the flies."

Dany was shocked. "They want to be slaves?" - Daenerys VI, ASOS

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A principled stance.

"I see." Perhaps it was not so shocking, if these tales of Astapor were true. Dany thought a moment. "Any man who wishes to sell himself into slavery may do so. Or woman." She raised a hand. "But they may not sell their children, nor a man his wife."

"In Astapor the city took a tenth part of the price, each time a slave changed hands," Missandei told her.

"We'll do the same," Dany decided. Wars were won with gold as much as swords. "A tenth part. In gold or silver coin, or ivory. Meereen has no need of saffron, cloves, or zorse hides." - Daenerys VI, ASOS

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There's maggots, flies, and death in her stomach.

Yet the thought of seeing Jorah Mormont again made her feel as if she'd swallowed a spoonful of flies; angry, agitated, sick. She could almost feel them buzzing round her belly.

[...]

"Flies are the dead man's revenge." Daario smiled, and stroked the center prong of his beard. "Corpses breed maggots, and maggots breed flies." - Daenerys VI, ASOS

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The Mad King's blood.

"Some truths are hard to hear. Robert was a . . . a good knight . . . chivalrous, brave . . . he spared my life, and the lives of many others . . . Prince Viserys was only a boy, it would have been years before he was fit to rule, and . . . forgive me, my queen, but you asked for truth . . . even as a child, your brother Viserys oft seemed to be his father's son, in ways that Rhaegar never did."

[...]

". . . my father's daughter?" If she was not her father's daughter, who was she? - Daenerys VI, ASOS

x

Your father always had a little madness in him, I now believe. Yet he was charming and generous as well, so his lapses were forgiven. His reign began with such promise . . . but as the years passed, the lapses grew more frequent, until . . ." - Daenerys VI, ASOS

x

He thought for a moment of the boy Viserys, fled to Dragonstone, and of Rhaegar's infant son Aegon, still in Maegor's with his mother. A new Targaryen king, and my father as Hand. How the wolves will howl, and the storm lord choke with rage. For a moment he was tempted, until he glanced down again at the body on the floor, in its spreading pool of blood. His blood is in both of them, he thought. - Jaime II, ASOS

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I'm not worried about Jon or Aegon, are you?

"I am no maester to quote history at you, Your Grace. Swords have been my life, not books. But every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. Your father was not the first. King Jaehaerys once told me that madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a new Targaryen is born, he said, the gods toss the coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it will land." - Daenerys VI, ASOS

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Avoiding the history.

The fat leather-bound volume was full of songs and stories from the Seven Kingdoms. Children's stories, if truth be told; too simple and fanciful to be true history. 

[...]

"Viserys was a child, and the queen sheltered him as much as she could. Your father always had a little madness in him, I now believe. Yet he was charming and generous as well, so his lapses were forgiven. His reign began with such promise . . . but as the years passed, the lapses grew more frequent, until . . ."

Dany stopped him. "Do I want to hear this now?" - Daenerys VI, ASOS

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A change of heart regarding bed slaves.

Later, when the time came for sleep, Dany took Irri into bed with her, for the first time since the ship. But even as she shuddered in release and wound her fingers through her handmaid's thick black hair, she pretended it was Drogo holding her . . . only somehow his face kept turning into Daario's. 

[...]

Irri slept soundly beside her, her lips slightly parted, one dark brown nipple peeping out above the sleeping silks. For a moment Dany was tempted, but it was Drogo she wanted, or perhaps Daario. Not Irri. The maid was sweet and skillful, but all her kisses tasted of duty. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

x

Dany stepped away from her. "No. Irri, you do not need to do that. What happened that night, when you woke . . . you're no bed slave, I freed you, remember? You . . ."

"I am handmaid to the Mother of Dragons," the girl said. "It is great honor to please my khaleesi."

"I don't want that," she insisted. "I don't." - Daenerys II, ASOS

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In the middle of Jorah betrayal talk, Daario takes a moment to caress two women + the funniest bouquet you'll ever see.

"The queen has a good heart," Daario purred through his deep purple whiskers, "but that one is more dangerous than all the Oznaks and Meros rolled up in one." His strong hands caressed the hilts of his matched blades, those wanton golden women. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

x

On the road from Yunkai, Daario had brought her a flower or a sprig of some plant every evening when he made his report . . . to help her learn the land, he said. Waspwillow, dusky roses, wild mint, lady's lace, daggerleaf, broom, prickly ben, harpy's gold . . . - Daenerys V, ASOS

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Little Missandei keeps interrupting.

Thank you, @sherlokiness!

She was Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, khaleesi and queen, Mother of Dragons, slayer of warlocks, breaker of chains, and there was no one in the world that she could trust.

"Your Grace?" Missandei stood at her elbow wrapped in a bedrobe, wooden sandals on her feet. "I woke, and saw that you were gone. Did you sleep well? What are you looking at?" - Daenerys VI, ASOS

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"I remember the Undying. Child of three, they called me. Three mounts they promised me, three fires, and three treasons. One for blood and one for gold and one for …"

"Your Grace?" Missandei stood in the door of the queen's bedchamber, a lantern in her hand. "Who are you talking to?" - Daenerys II, ADWD

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LET'S DANCE: STARK vs. TARG

The smell of death.

There was a smell of death about that room; a heavy smell, sweet and foul, clinging. - Catelyn I, ASOS

x

"Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones." - Daenerys II, ACOK

x

A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness - Daenerys IV, ACOK

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Nymeria hunts down a Dothraki, and paints the world black and red.

Thank you, @dontbipanicjonsa!

Her dreams were red and savage. The Mummers were in them, four at least, a pale Lyseni and a dark brutal axeman from Ib, the scarred Dothraki horse lord called Iggo and a Dornishman whose name she never knew. 

[...]

They thought they were hunting her, she knew with all the strange sharp certainty of dreams, but they were wrong. She was hunting them.

[...]

Only the belled man stood his ground. His horse kicked in the head of one of her sisters, and he cut another almost in half with his curved silvery claw as his hair tinkled softly.

Filled with rage, she leapt onto his back, knocking him head-first from his saddle. Her jaws locked on his arm as they fell, her teeth sinking through the leather and wool and soft flesh. When they landed she gave a savage jerk with her head and ripped the limb loose from his shoulder. Exulting, she shook it back and forth in her mouth, scattering the warm red droplets amidst the cold black rain. - Arya I, ASOS

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Daenerys believes Rhaegal is trying to steal the prize from Drogon.

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. - Daenerys I, ASOS

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Clever men hatch ambitious schemes.

Thank you, @decadelongsummer!

Ser Jorah snorted. "That wineseller who tried to poison you was a clever man as well. Clever men hatch ambitious schemes." - Daenerys I, ASOS

x

"Maester Aemon thinks you clever." Mormont moved the raven to his shoulder. - Jon IV, ACOK

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Mance or the Conqueror?

Three hundred men could not hope to kill a hundred times their number, of course, but Jon did not think they would need to. He need not slay a thousand, only one. Mance is all that keeps them together. - Jon II, ASOS

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A Targaryen stain.

When he touched it his black gloves came away stained with red. - Jon II, ASOS

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Snow snuffed the fire out.

Yesterday he begged for them to let him be one of the torchbearers, even if it meant walking outside of the column with the darkness pressing close. He wanted the fire, dreamed of the fire. If I had the fire, I would not be cold. But someone reminded him that he'd had a torch at the start, but he'd dropped it in the snow and snuffed the fire out. - Samwell I, ASOS

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Arya the Kingslayer?

"No," the old man said. "Northmen, they were. Savages who worship trees. They wanted the Kingslayer, they said."

Arya heard him, and chewed her lip. She could feel Gendry looking at her. - Arya IV, ASOS

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A Faceless Man kills a king.

I dreamt of a man without a face, waiting on a bridge that swayed and swung. On his shoulder perched a drowned crow with seaweed hanging from his wings. - Arya IV, ASOS

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Words that keep haunting Daenerys.

"Valar morghulis," said Missandei, in High Valyrian.

"All men must die," Dany agreed, "but not for a long while, we may pray." - Daenerys III, ASOS

x

"You know nothing, Jon Snow," Ygritte would have told him. I know that I am going to die, he thought. I know that much, at least. "All men die," he could almost hear her say, "and women too, and every beast that flies or swims or runs. It's not the when o' dying that matters, it's the how of it, Jon Snow." - Jon X, ASOS

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Garnets lack fire.

As he entered his lord father's solar a few moments later, he heard a voice saying, ". . . cherrywood for the scabbards, bound in red leather and ornamented with a row of lion's-head studs in pure gold. Perhaps with garnets for the eyes . . ."

"Rubies," Lord Tywin said. "Garnets lack the fire." - Tyrion IV, ASOS

x

The pommel was a hunk of pale stone weighted with lead to balance the long blade. It had been carved into the likeness of a snarling wolf's head, with chips of garnet set into the eyes. - Jon VIII, AGOT

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Ghost was curled up asleep beside the door, but he lifted his head at the sound of Jon's boots. The direwolf's red eyes were darker than garnets and wiser than men. Jon knelt, scratched his ear, and showed him the pommel of the sword. "Look. It's you." - Jon VIII, AGOT

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Jon and Daario are hiding their true colours in back-to-back chapters.

"He must die," Styr the Magnar said. "Do it, crow."

The old man said no word. He only looked at Jon, standing amongst the wildlings. Amidst the rain and smoke, lit only by the fire, he could not have seen that Jon was all in black, but for his sheepskin cloak. Or could he? - Jon V, ASOS

x

And her knight dressed plainly while this other made a peacock look drab, though he had thrown a heavy black cloak over his bright yellow finery for this visit. He carried a heavy canvas sack slung over one shoulder. - Daenerys IV, ASOS

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Catelyn slices up a fool in a crown, ornamented with bells, with a Targaryen name. A younger version of the father.

The eighth Lady Frey stood beside Lord Walder's high seat. At his feet sat a somewhat younger version of himself, a stooped thin man of fifty whose costly garb of blue wool and grey satin was strangely accented by a crown and collar ornamented with tiny brass bells. The likeness between him and his lord was striking, save for their eyes; Lord Frey's small, dim, and suspicious, the other's large, amiable, and vacant. Catelyn recalled that one of Lord Walder's brood had fathered a halfwit long years ago. During past visits, the Lord of the Crossing had always taken care to hide this one away. Did he always wear a fool's crown, or is that meant as mockery of Robb? It was a question she dare not ask.

[...]

"Sire," Lord Walder said, "forgive my Aegon the noise. He has less wits than a crannogman, and he's never met a king before. One of Stevron's boys. We call him Jinglebell." - Catelyn VI, ASOS

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While mostly sitting on the sidelines, Jon observes a dance.

The dance has moved on, he thought.

[...]

The dance has moved on, and we're watching from the gallery, he thought as he hobbled back. - Jon VII, ASOS

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It's fire against ice.

The heat of the fires was making the Wall weep, and the flames danced and shimmered against the ice. - Jon VII, ASOS

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Shades of Arya during an assassination attempt.

The old man feinted with one end of the staff, pulled it back, and whipped the other end about faster than Dany would have believed. The Titan's Bastard staggered back into the surf, spitting blood and broken teeth from the ruin of his mouth. Whitebeard put Dany behind him. Mero slashed at his face. The old man jerked back, cat-quick. The staff thumped Mero's ribs, sending him reeling. Arstan splashed sideways, parried a looping cut, danced away from a second, checked a third mid-swing. - Daenerys V, ASOS

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Doubtful the queen will have many kind things to say about the Usurper's Dog and his children.

The north. "I . . . my brother Robb was King in the North . . ."

"Your brother was the rightful Lord of Winterfell. If he had stayed home and done his duty, instead of crowning himself and riding off to conquer the riverlands, he might be alive today. Be that as it may. You are not Robb, no more than I am Robert."

The harsh words had blown away whatever sympathy Jon might have had for Stannis. "I loved my brother," he said. - Jon XI, ASOS

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Jon is unsettled by the beautiful red lady, who burns men alive, and smells of fire & blood.

Thank you, @magiclovingdragon!

He had glimpsed Melisandre at her nightfires, and coming and going about the castle, but never so close. She's beautiful, he thought . . . but there was something more than a little unsettling about red eyes. "My lady."

[...]

In the close confines of the iron cage, he was acutely aware of the red woman's presence. She even smells red. The scent reminded him of Mikken's forge, of the way iron smelled when red-hot; the scent was smoke and blood. - Jon XI, ASOS

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The raiders and slavers from Valyria better hope that never happens.

Thank you, @astraphysical!

Stannis put a thin, fleshless hand on Jon's shoulder. "Say nothing of what we've discussed here today. To anyone. But when you return, you need only bend your knee, lay your sword at my feet, and pledge yourself to my service, and you shall rise again as Jon Stark, the Lord of Winterfell." - Jon XI, ASOS

x

Even before the coming of the Andals, the Wolf's Den had been raised by King Jon Stark, built to defend the mouth of the White Knife against raiders and slavers from across the narrow sea (some scholars suggest these were early Andal incursions, whilst others argue they were the forebears of the men from Ib, or even slavers out of Valyria and Volantis). - TWoIaF

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SHOWDOWN AT THE TRIDENT

Jon and Daenerys stand on opposite sides.

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper's rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened. - Daenerys III, ASOS

x

Burning shafts hissed upward, trailing tongues of fire. Scarecrow brothers tumbled down, black cloaks ablaze. "Snow," an eagle cried, as foemen scuttled up the ice like spiders. Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. As the dead men reached the top of the Wall he sent them down to die again. He slew a greybeard and a beardless boy, a giant, a gaunt man with filed teeth, a girl with thick red hair. Too late he recognized Ygritte. She was gone as quick as she'd appeared. - Jon XII, ADWD

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Julius Caesar crosses the Rubicon. The die is cast.

Thank you, @nusaran and @northernpack!

Dany mounted her silver. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest. She felt desperately afraid. Was this what my brother would have done? She wondered if Prince Rhaegar had been this anxious when he saw the Usurper's host formed up across the Trident with all their banners floating on the wind.

[...]

It is time to cross the Trident, Dany thought, as she wheeled and rode her silver back. - Daenerys III, ASOS

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A trip down memory lane that definitely won't be happening again.

"Torrhen had brought his power south after the fall of the two kings on the Field of Fire," said Jaime, "but when he saw Aegon's dragon and the size of his host, he chose the path of wisdom and bent his frozen knees." - Jaime II, ASOS

x

A terrible beauty. Like dragonfire. Tyrion wondered if Aegon the Conqueror had felt like this as he flew above his Field of Fire. - Tyrion XIII, ACOK

x

"Yet even queens can err. The Astapori have cheated you, Your Grace. A dragon is worth more than any army. Aegon proved that three hundred years ago, upon the Field of Fire."

"I know what Aegon proved. I mean to prove a few things of my own." Dany turned away from him - Daenerys III, ASOS

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Ned never taught young Robb when to kneel.

-> Jon VIII, AGOT

It would not do to make him feel as if his mother were usurping his place. Did you teach him wisdom as well as valor, Ned? she wondered. Did you teach him how to kneel? The graveyards of the Seven Kingdoms were full of brave men who had never learned that lesson. - Catelyn IX, AGOT

x

Suddenly Catelyn was full of dread. "Wars need not be fought until the last drop of blood." Even she could hear the desperation in her voice. "You would not be the first king to bend the knee, nor even the first Stark."

His mouth tightened. "No. Never."

"There is no shame in it. Balon Greyjoy bent the knee to Robert when his rebellion failed. Torrhen Stark bent the knee to Aegon the Conqueror rather than see his army face the fires." - Catelyn IV, ASOS

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Or perhaps someone else?

"Yes," the maester said, "but this battle he cannot win. It is time he lay down his sword and shield. Time to yield."

To yield, she thought, to make a peace. Was it her father the maester was speaking of, or her son? - Catelyn III, ASOS

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An older wolf might not have believed himself immortal. (Rest in peace, 5 year gap.)

"Won every battle, while losing the Freys, the Karstarks, Winterfell, and the north. A pity the wolf is so young. Boys of sixteen always believe they are immortal and invincible. An older man would bend the knee, I'd think. After a war there is always a peace, and with peace there are pardons . . . for the Robb Starks, at least. Not for the likes of Vargo Hoat." - Jaime V, ASOS

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Davos understands some men don't have a choice. Stannis is less forgiving.

"When he did," Davos repeated. "They were his men. His sworn men. What choice were they given?"

"Every man has choices. They might have refused to kneel. Some did, and died for it. Yet they died true men, and loyal." - Davos IV, ASOS

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Crowns won't help when the dragons come.

"Some would say it's a poor king who crowns himself with bronze, Your Grace."

"Bronze and iron are stronger than gold and silver," Robb answered. "The old Kings of Winter wore such a sword-crown."

"Small good it did them when the dragons came. Heh." - Catelyn VI, ASOS

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In back-to-back chapters, Jon regretfully finds himself riding off with the rebel host, while Rhaegal tries to make an escape before Daenerys massacres a city.

I should have tried to kill Mance Rayder on the Fist, even if it meant my life. That was what Qhorin Halfhand would have done. But Jon had hesitated, and the chance passed. The next day he had ridden off with Styr the Magnar, Jarl, and more than a hundred picked Thenns and raiders. He told himself that he was only biding his time, that when the moment came he would slip away and ride for Castle Black. The moment never came. - Jon III, ASOS

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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. - Daenerys III, ASOS

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A RAT IN A MAZE 🐀🔪

Did you know it's believed that smaller harbour rats from the Free Cities carry the Shivers?

Rats who bring cold.

Rest in peace, Princess Daenerys Targaryen.

And then the Shivers came, and the Stranger walked the land.

The maesters knew the Shivers. They had seen its like before, a century ago, and the course of the contagion was written in their books. It was believed to have come to Westeros from across the sea, from one of the Free Cities or lands more distant still. Port cities and harbor towns always felt the hand of the disease first and hardest. Many of the smallfolk believed that it was carried by rats; not the familiar grey rats of King's Landing or Oldtown, big and bold and vicious, but the smaller black rats that could be seen swarming from the holds of ships at dock and scurrying down the ropes that held them fast. Though the guilt of rats was never proved to the satisfaction of the Citadel, suddenly every house in the Seven Kingdoms, from the grandest castle to the humblest hut, required a cat. - Fire & Blood

x

It was the hour of the owl when Queen Alysanne was awoken by her daughter shaking her gently by the arm. "Mother," Princess Daenerys said, "I'm cold."

[...]

The princess was six, and years past being weaned, but a wet nurse was summoned, for there were some who believed that mother's milk could cure Shivers. Maesters came and went, septons and septas prayed, the king commanded that a hundred new ratcatchers be hired at once, and offered a silver stag for every dead rat, grey or black.

[...]

None of it matter. A day and a half after she had woken her mother from sleep complaining of feeling cold, the little princess was dead. - Fire & Blood

Brrrrr!

The marks of the disease were well-known. It began simply enough, with a chill. Victims would complain of being cold, throw a fresh log on the fire, huddle under a blanket or a pile of furs. Some would call for hot soup, mulled wine, or, against all reason, beer. Neither blankets nor soups could stay the progress of the pestilence. Soon the shivering would begin; mild at first, a trembling, a shudder, but inexorably growing worse. Gooseprickles would march up and down the victim's limbs like conquering armies. By then the afflicted would be shivering so violently that their teeth would clatter, and their hands and feet would begin to convulse and twitch. When the victim's lips turned blue and he began to cough up blood, the end was nigh. Once the first chill was felt, the course of the Shivers was swift. - Fire & Blood

x

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Arya the Rat.

Lord Renly stifled his laughter. "My brother is too kind. I can find the door myself." He bowed to Joffrey. "Perchance later you'll tell me how a nine-year-old girl the size of a wet rat managed to disarm you with a broom handle and throw your sword in the river." - Eddard III, AGOT

x

The old fat septa moved forward. "Boy, how did you come here? You have no business in this part of the castle."

"You can't keep this sort out," one of the red cloaks said. "Like trying to keep out rats." - Arya III, AGOT

x

The older scowled. "Who's this father of yours, boy, the city ratcatcher?" - Arya III, AGOT

x

"You be keepin' your filthy hands off. The gold cloaks know how to deal with thieving little gutter rats, that they do." - Arya V, AGOT

x

When he laughed he brayed like the donkeys they were riding. "Where's a gutter rat like Lumpyhead get him a sword?" - Arya I, ACOK

x

The Bull scowled at her. "Why should she want you? You're nothing but a little gutter rat!" - Arya II, ACOK

x

Porridge at least seemed to know he was alive, and there was a queer sort of kindness to the man. Davos suspected that he fed the rats; that was why there were so many. Once he thought he heard the gaoler talking to them as if they were children, but perhaps he'd only dreamed that. - Davos III, ASOS

x

[Stumpy note: I refuse to track a certain type of foreshadowing, so you're going to have to trust me that the following is an Arya reference.]

Thank you, @agentrouka-blog!

Every man shall reap what he has sown, from the highest lord to the lowest gutter rat. And some will lose more than the tips off their fingers, I promise you. - Davos IV, ASOS

x

Once the direwolf bolted through a dark door and returned a moment later with a grey rat between his teeth. The Rat Cook, Bran thought, but it was the wrong color, and only as big as a cat. The Rat Cook was white, and almost as huge as a sow . . . - Bran IV, ASOS

x

He probably won't even know me. She looked more like a drowned rat than a lord's cupbearer these days. A drowned boy rat. - Arya X, ASOS

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There's rats in the walls of the Red Keep.

Part of her wanted to run, but she was afraid of snuffing out her candle. She heard the faint squeaking of rats and glimpsed a pair of tiny glowing eyes on the edge of the light, but rats did not scare her. - Arya IV, AGOT

x

In the Red Keep a man did best to hold his tongue. There were rats in the walls, and little birds who talked too much, and spiders. - Tyrion I, ASOS

x

"You will bring Shae to me through the walls, hidden from all these eyes. As you have done before."

Varys wrung his hands. "Oh, my lord, nothing would please me more, but . . . King Maegor wanted no rats in his own walls, if you take my meaning. He did require a means of secret egress, should he ever be trapped by his enemies, but that door does not connect with any other passages. - Tyrion II, ASOS

x

"It had to be the godswood. No other place in the Red Keep is safe from the eunuch's little birds . . . or little rats, as I call them. There are trees in the godswood instead of walls. Sky above instead of ceiling. Roots and dirt and rock in place of floor. The rats have no place to scurry. Rats need to hide, lest men skewer them with swords." - Sansa V, ASOS

x

I arrived here a King's Hand, riding through the gates at the head of my own sworn men, Tyrion reflected, and I leave like a rat scuttling through the dark, holding hands with a spider. - Tyrion XI, ASOS

x

She imagined Tyrion creeping between the walls like some monstrous rat. No. You are being silly. The dwarf is in his cell.  - Cersei I, AFFC

x

"Cheese knew the Red Keep better than the shape of his own cock," Mushroom tells us. The hidden doors and secret tunnels that Maegor the Cruel had built were as familiar to the rat-catcher as to the rats he hunted. Using a forgotten passageway, Cheese led Blood into the heart of the castle, unseen by any guard. - Fire & Blood

x

Years later, when these events had passed into legend, the smallfolk would tell each other that "rats in the walls" had overheard the lords talking and rushed to the princess with the news. - Fire & Blood

x

It is oft said that the Red Keep has no secrets, that there are rats in the walls who hear everything and whisper in the ears of sleepers by night. - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

Arya learns the secret passageways of the Red Keep, and makes some new friends along the way. Twice.

The dungeon was under the Red Keep, deeper than he dared imagine. He remembered the old stories about Maegor the Cruel, who murdered all the masons who labored on his castle, so they might never reveal its secrets. - Eddard XV, AGOT

x

She wondered where she was. When they had first come to King's Landing, she used to have bad dreams about getting lost in the castle. Father said the Red Keep was smaller than Winterfell, but in her dreams it had been immense, an endless stone maze with walls that seemed to shift and change behind her. She would find herself wandering down gloomy halls past faded tapestries, descending endless circular stairs, darting through courtyards or over bridges, her shouts echoing unanswered. - Arya III, AGOT

x

The monsters were still there, but the fear was gone.

Arya got to her feet, moving warily. The heads were all around her. She touched one, curious, wondering if it was real. Her fingertips brushed a massive jaw. It felt real enough. The bone was smooth beneath her hand, cold and hard to the touch. She ran her fingers down a tooth, black and sharp, a dagger made of darkness. It made her shiver.

"It's dead," she said aloud. "It's just a skull, it can't hurt me." Yet somehow the monster seemed to know she was there. She could feel its empty eyes watching her through the gloom, and there was something in that dim, cavernous room that did not love her. She edged away from the skull and backed into a second, larger than the first. For an instant she could feel its teeth digging into her shoulder, as if it wanted a bite of her flesh. Arya whirled, felt leather catch and tear as a huge fang nipped at her jerkin, and then she was running. Another skull loomed ahead, the biggest monster of all, but Arya did not even slow. She leapt over a ridge of black teeth as tall as swords, dashed through hungry jaws, and threw herself against the door. [...] If the room with the monsters had been dark, the hall was the blackest pit in the seven hells. Calm as still water, Arya told herself, but even when she gave her eyes a moment to adjust, there was nothing to see but the vague grey outline of the door she had come through. [...] Her fingers brushed against rough unfinished stone to her left. She followed the wall, her hand skimming along the surface, taking small gliding steps through the darkness. All halls lead somewhere. - Arya III, AGOT

x

This time the monsters did not frighten her. They seemed almost old friends. Arya held the candle over her head. With each step she took, the shadows moved against the walls, as if they were turning to watch her pass. "Dragons," she whispered. She slid Needle out from under her cloak. The slender blade seemed very small and the dragons very big, yet somehow Arya felt better with steel in her hand.

The long windowless hall beyond the door was as black as she remembered. She held Needle in her left hand, her sword hand, the candle in her right fist. Hot wax ran down across her knuckles. The entrance to the well had been to the left, so Arya went right. Part of her wanted to run, but she was afraid of snuffing out her candle. She heard the faint squeaking of rats and glimpsed a pair of tiny glowing eyes on the edge of the light, but rats did not scare her. - Arya IV, AGOT

x

"I warn you, Arya, if you're spinning this thread of air—"

"No, I told you, it was in the dungeons, by the place with the secret wall. I was chasing cats, and well …" - Arya III, AGOT

+.+.+

Secret tunnels, and an escape through sewers. Daenerys is told a familiar story.

She must have crept after them for miles. Finally they were gone, but there was no place to go but forward. She found the wall again and followed, blind and lost, pretending that Nymeria was padding along beside her in the darkness. At the end she was knee-deep in foul-smelling water, wishing she could dance upon it as Syrio might have, and wondering if she'd ever see light again. It was full dark when finally Arya emerged into the night air.

She found herself standing at the mouth of a sewer where it emptied into the river. She stank so badly that she stripped right there, dropping her soiled clothing on the riverbank as she dove into the deep black waters. She swam until she felt clean, and crawled out shivering. - Arya III, AGOT

x

"I know a way." Brown Ben Plumm stroked his speckled grey-and-white beard. "Sewers."

"Sewers? What do you mean?"

"Great brick sewers empty into the Skahazadhan, carrying the city's wastes. They might be a way in, for a few. That was how I escaped Meereen, after Scarb lost his head." Brown Ben made a face. "The smell has never left me. I dream of it some nights."

Ser Jorah looked dubious. "Easier to go out than in, it would seem to me. These sewers empty into the river, you say? That would mean the mouths are right below the walls."

[...]

There's things down there too. Biggest rats you ever saw, and worse things. Nasty." - Daenerys V, ASOS

+.+.+

Daenerys hears rats in the walls during her truth-seeking journey. Drogon isn't a happy boy.

What remained served to muffle her footfalls, but that was not all to the good. Dany could hear sounds within the walls, a faint scurrying and scrabbling that made her think of rats. Drogon heard them too. His head moved as he followed the sounds, and when they stopped he gave an angry scream. - Daenerys IV, ACOK

+.+.+

Aerys believes there's traitors inside the walls, right before he's killed.

But when he closed his eyes, it was Aerys Targaryen he saw, pacing alone in his throne room, picking at his scabbed and bleeding hands. The fool was always cutting himself on the blades and barbs of the Iron Throne. Jaime had slipped in through the king's door, clad in his golden armor, sword in hand. [...]

When Aerys saw the blood on his blade, he demanded to know if it was Lord Tywin's. "I want him dead, the traitor. I want his head, you'll bring me his head, or you'll burn with all the rest. All the traitors. Rossart says they are inside the walls! He's gone to make them a warm welcome. Whose blood? Whose?" - Jaime II, ASOS

+.+.+

The Iron Throne kills Maegor the Cruel . . . or was it someone else?

All day the lords made plans, and late into the night. It was the hour of the wolf when at last Maegor allowed them to take their leave. The king remained behind, brooding on the Iron Throne as they departed. Lord Towers and Lord Rosby were the last to see His Grace.

Hours later, as dawn was breaking, the last of Maegor's queens came seeking after him. Queen Elinor found him still upon the Iron Throne, pale and dead, his robes soaked through with blood. His arms had been slashed open from wrist to elbow on jagged barbs, and another blade had gone through his neck to emerge beneath his chin.

Man to this day believe it was the Iron Throne itself that killed him.

[...]

It might also have been a person or persons unknown, entering and leaving the throne room through some hidden passage. The Red Keep has its secrets, known only to the dead. - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

The Iron Throne rejects Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Septon Eustace tells us that the ceremony went on all through that night. It was well past dawn when Rhaenyra Targaryen rose and made her descent. "And as her lord husband Prince Daemon escorted her from the hall, cuts were seen upon Her Grace's legs and the palms of her left hand," wrote Eustace. "Drops of blood fell to the floor as she went past, and wise men looked at one another, though none dared speak the truth aloud: the Iron Throne had spurned her, and her days upon it would be few." - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

Was it the Rat or the Iron Throne?

They say the Iron Throne can be cruel to those who were not meant to sit it.

Ned could feel cold steel against his fingers as he leaned forward. Between each finger was a blade, the points of twisted swords fanning out like talons from arms of the throne. Even after three centuries, some were still sharp enough to cut. The Iron Throne was full of traps for the unwary. The songs said it had taken a thousand blades to make it, heated white-hot in the furnace breath of Balerion the Black Dread. The hammering had taken fifty-nine days. The end of it was this hunched black beast made of razor edges and barbs and ribbons of sharp metal; a chair that could kill a man, and had, if the stories could be believed. - Eddard XI, AGOT

x

"Joffrey is the black worm eating the heart of the realm! Darkness was his father, and death his mother! Destroy him before he corrupts you all! Destroy them all, queen whore and king worm, vile dwarf and whispering spider, the false flowers. Save yourselves!" One of the gold cloaks knocked the man off his feet, but he continued to shout. "The scouring fire will come! King Stannis will return!"

Joffrey lurched to his feet. "I'm king! Kill him! Kill him now! I command it." He chopped down with his hand, a furious, angry gesture . . . and screeched in pain when his arm brushed against one of the sharp metal fangs that surrounded him. The bright crimson samite of his sleeve turned a darker shade of red as his blood soaked through it. "Mother!" he wailed.

With every eye on the king, somehow the man on the floor wrested a spear away from one of the gold cloaks, and used it to push himself back to his feet. "The throne denies him!" he cried. "He is no king!" - Sansa VIII, ACOK

x

Sansa felt limp with exhaustion as she made her way down from the gallery. She wondered how badly Joffrey had cut himself. They say the Iron Throne can be perilous cruel to those who were not meant to sit it. - Sansa VIII, ACOK

x

"Have you ever seen the Iron Throne? The barbs along the back, the ribbons of twisted steel, the jagged ends of swords and knives all tangled up and melted? It is not a comfortable seat, ser. Aerys cut himself so often men took to calling him King Scab, and Maegor the Cruel was murdered in that chair. By that chair, to hear some tell it. It is not a seat where a man can rest at ease. Ofttimes I wonder why my brothers wanted it so desperately." - Davos IV, ASOS

x

"And to mount a dragon . . . I remember the first time my father took me to court, Robert had to hold my hand. I could not have been older than four, which would have made him five or six. We agreed afterward that the king had been as noble as the dragons were fearsome." Stannis snorted. "Years later, our father told us that Aerys had cut himself on the throne that morning, so his Hand had taken his place. It was Tywin Lannister who'd so impressed us." His fingers touched the surface of the table, tracing a path lightly across the varnished hills. "Robert took the skulls down when he donned the crown, but he could not bear to have them destroyed. Dragon wings over Westeros . . . there would be such a . . ." - Davos V, ASOS

x

By the end the Mad King had become so fearful that he would allow no blade in his presence, save for the swords his Kingsguard wore. His beard was matted and unwashed, his hair a silver-gold tangle that reached his waist, his fingernails cracked yellow claws nine inches long. Yet still the blades tormented him, the ones he could never escape, the blades of the Iron Throne. His arms and legs were always covered with scabs and half-healed cuts. - Jaime II, AFFC

+.+.+

Cold, chilling words.

"I will not be part of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to it."

[...]

Ned bowed, and turned on his heel without another word. He could feel Robert's eyes on his back. As he strode from the council chambers, the discussion resumed with scarcely a pause. "On Braavos there is a society called the Faceless Men," Grand Maester Pycelle offered. - Eddard VIII, AGOT

x

The red door was so far ahead of her, and she could feel the icy breath behind, sweeping up on her. If it caught her she would die a death that was more than death, howling forever alone in the darkness. She began to run. - Daenerys IX, AGOT

x

"This Iron Throne you speak of sounds monstrous cold and hard. I cannot bear the thought of jagged barbs cutting your sweet skin." - Daenerys III, ACOK

x

Next you will be offering me a suit of magic armor and a palace in Valyria. "If Daenerys is no more than a sweet young girl, the Iron Throne will cut her into sweet young pieces." - Tyrion II, ADWD

x

"My lord is good to care so much, but I am well protected." Dany gestured toward where Barristan Selmy stood with one hand resting on his sword hilt. "Barristan the Bold, they call him. Twice he has saved me from assassins." - Daenerys III, ADWD

+.+.+

Uh oh, parallels:

Nobody can figure out who killed King Renly! Was it a shadow?

"Cold," said Renly in a small puzzled voice, a heartbeat before the steel of his gorget parted like cheesecloth beneath the shadow of a blade that was not there. He had time to make a small thick gasp before the blood came gushing out of his throat. - Catelyn IV, ASOS

x

"Oh, very good." Jaime laughed. "Your wits are quicker than mine, I confess it. When they found me standing over my dead king, I never thought to say, 'No, no, it wasn't me, it was a shadow, a terrible cold shadow.'" - Jaime II, ASOS

x

Now at last she had him. High walls pressed close on either side, and ahead was a blank windowless mass of stone. Quiet as a shadow, she repeated, sliding forward, light as a feather. - Arya III, ASOS

+.+.+

Uh oh, parallels:

Snow is falling on King's Landing when Kevan Lannister is assassinated by children in the walls.

The snow had been falling on King's Landing most of the night [...]

The chill in the throne room was palpable. [...]

Behind the table where the five members of the king's small council were seated, the Iron Throne crouched like some great black beast, its barbs and claws and blades half-shrouded in shadow. Kevan Lannister could feel it at his back, an itch between the shoulder blades. It was easy to imagine old King Aerys perched up there, bleeding from some fresh cut, glowering down. [...]

"Aye, if we had gold," Ser Harys Swyft said. "Alas, my lords, our vaults contain only rats and roaches. I have written again to the Myrish bankers. [...]

Outside the snow was swirling round the outer ward, a caged beast howling to be free. "Have you ever felt such cold?" asked Ser Harys. [...]

"An old black tomcat with a torn ear," Cersei told him. "A filthy thing, and foul-tempered. He clawed Joff's hand once." She made a face. "The cats keep the rats down, I know, but that one... he's been known to attack ravens in the rookery." [...]

Ser Kevan had always found them uncomfortably hot. Not tonight. Once past the chamber door, the chill was palpable. Black ash and dying embers were all that remained of the hearthfire.

The rest was shrouded in shadow … except beneath the open window, where a spray of ice crystals glittered in the moonlight, swirling in the wind. [...]

"Winter," said Ser Kevan. The word made a white mist in the air. He turned away from the window.

Then something slammed him in the chest between the ribs, hard as a giant's fist. It drove the breath from him and sent him lurching backwards. [...]

"Tyrion?" he called. "Where …?"

"Far away," a half-familiar voice replied.

He stood in a pool of shadow by a bookcase, plump, pale-faced, round-shouldered, clutching a crossbow in soft powdered hands. Silk slippers swaddled his feet. [...]

Pain washed over him. He closed his eyes, opened them again. "There are … there are hundreds of Lannister guardsmen in this castle."

"But none in this room, thankfully. [...]

A gust of wind blew up. Ser Kevan shivered violently.

"Are you cold, my lord?" asked Varys. [...]

Ser Kevan was cold as ice, and every labored breath sent a fresh stab of pain through him. He glimpsed movement, heard the soft scuffling sound of slippered feet on stone. A child emerged from a pool of darkness, a pale boy in a ragged robe, no more than nine or ten. Another rose up behind the Grand Maester's chair. The girl who had opened the door for him was there as well. They were all around him, half a dozen of them, white-faced children with dark eyes, boys and girls together.

And in their hands, the daggers. - Epilogue, ADWD

+.+.+

Uh oh, parallels:

Panic! Daenerys can't see who's there.

This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened.

She woke suddenly in the darkness of her cabin, still flush with triumph. Balerion seemed to wake with her, and she heard the faint creak of wood, water lapping against the hull, a football on the deck above her head. And something else.

Someone was in the cabin with her.

"Irri? Jhiqui? Where are you?" Her handmaids did not respond. It was too black to see, but she could hear them breathing. "Jorah, is that you?"

"They sleep," a woman said. "They all sleep." The voice was very close. "Even dragons must sleep."

She is standing over me. "Who's there?" Dany peered into the darkness. She thought she could see a shadow, the faintest outline of a shape. "What do you want to me?"

[...]

"Khaleesi, are you unwell?" asked Jhiqui.

"A dream." Dany shook her head. "I dreamed a dream, no more. Go back to sleep. All of us, go back to sleep." Yet try as she might, sleep would not come again. - Daenerys III, ASOS

+.+.+

Uh oh, parallels:

After another surprise visit that catches Daenerys off guard, Daenerys asks Quaithe how she got past her guardsmen.

A soft rustle made her open them again. She sat up with a soft splash. "Missandei?" she called. "Irri? Jhiqui?"

"They sleep," came the answer.

A woman stood under the persimmon tree, clad in a hooded robe that brushed the grass. Beneath the hood, her face seemed hard and shiny. She is wearing a mask, Dany knew, a wooden mask finished in dark red lacquer. "Quaithe? Am I dreaming?" She pinched her ear and winced at the pain. "I dreamt of you on Balerion, when first we came to Astapor."

"You did not dream. Then or now."

"What are you doing here? How did you get past my guards?"

"I came another way. Your guards never saw me." – Daenerys II, ADWD

+.+.+

Uh oh, parallels:

Arya IV, ACOK (click) -> using a secret tunnel found underground, Arya escapes a burning barn, and ends up in a river. Did dragons set the barn on fire? It's hard to tell.  

+.+.+

Uh oh, parallels:

Davos III, ASOS (click) -> After failing to kill the fire lady, Davos (or is that Jon Snow?) finds himself locked in the cells underneath Dragonstone. His only friends are the rats.

+.+.+

Uh oh, parallels:

Tyrion XI, ASOS (click) -> Sibling Jaime manages to free Tyrion from the cells underneath King's Landing. Throw in several references to rats, Maegor the Cruel, spooky warnings about the dangers of secret tunnels, and you have a pretty fun chapter!

Oh, and the murder. I forgot the murder. While in the tunnels he takes a detour and does some murder.

+.+.+

Uh oh, parallels:

Bran IV, ASOS (click) -> Bran explores the abandoned Nightfort, and finds a sewer that might as well be Arya's favourite sewer in King's Landing. He's not alone though, he has his friends, and a castle filled with rats in the walls and floors.

+.+.+

Chapter transitions that make you go hmmm:

ACOK: Arya IX -> Daenerys IV

Arya the cupbearer. Daenerys is served.

Thank you, @decadelongsummer!

Nan, you shall be my cupbearer, and serve me at table and in chambers. - Arya IX, ACOK

x

They had rattish pointed faces and tiny pink hands, like the servitor who had brought her the glass of shade. - Daenerys IV, ACOK

+.+.+

Chapter transitions that make you go hmmm:

ACOK: Daenerys V -> Arya X

A man from a society of assassins attempts to kill Daenerys. Arya Stark provides the echo, and shows us how it's done.

Thank you, @une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir!

A Qartheen stepped into her path. "Mother of Dragons, for you." He knelt and thrust a jewel box into her face.

Dany took it almost by reflex. The box was carved wood, its mother-of-pearl lid inlaid with jasper and chalcedony. "You are too generous." She opened it. Within was a glittering green scarab carved from onyx and emerald. Beautiful, she thought. This will help pay for our passage. As she reached inside the box, the man said, "I am so sorry," but she hardly heard.

The scarab unfolded with a hiss.

Dany caught a glimpse of a malign black face, almost human, and an arched tail dripping venom . . . and then the box flew from her hand in pieces, turning end over end. Sudden pain twisted her fingers. As she cried out and clutched her hand, the brass merchant let out a shriek, a woman screamed, and suddenly the Qartheen were shouting and pushing each other aside. Ser Jorah slammed past her, and Dany stumbled to one knee. 

[...]

"They were defending me." Dany snapped her hand to shake the sting from her fingers. "It was the other one, the Qartheen." When she looked around he was gone. "He was a Sorrowful Man. There was a manticore in that jewel box he gave me. This man knocked it out of my hand." - Daenerys V, ACOK

x

He'd left his dagger on the table as well, so she took that too, just in case Gendry lost his courage.

[...]

"I could catch you if I wanted," she called to it softly, "but I have to go, cat." The cat hissed again and ran off.

[...]

Arya took out the dagger and sharpened it to keep her hands busy. Long smooth strokes, the way Syrio had taught her. The sound calmed her.

[...]

She walked fast, to keep ahead of her fear, and it felt as though Syrio Forel walked beside her, and Yoren, and Jaqen H'ghar, and Jon Snow. She had not taken the sword Gendry had brought her, not yet. For this the dagger would be better. 

[...]

"He told me to give all his guards a silver piece, for their good service." The words seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Silver, you say?" He did not believe her, but he wanted to; silver was silver, after all. "Give it over, then."

Her fingers dug down beneath her tunic and came out clutching the coin Jaqen had given her. In the dark the iron could pass for tarnished silver. She held it out . . . and let it slip through her fingers.

Cursing her softly, the man went to a knee to grope for the coin in the dirt, and there was his neck right in front of her. Arya slid her dagger out and drew it across his throat, as smooth as summer silk. His blood covered her hands in a hot gush and he tried to shout but there was blood in his mouth as well.

"Valar morghulis," she whispered as he died. - Arya X, ACOK

+.+.+

Chapter transitions that make you go hmmm:

ASOS: Davos II -> Jaime II -> Tyrion II -> Arya II

After King's Landing burns, the sailor returns to Dragonstone, with a gifted dagger, and one goal: assassinate the fire lady who burns people alive.

She would be waiting on Dragonstone as well, waiting in all her beauty and all her power, with her god and her shadows and his king. The red priestess had always seemed loyal to Stannis, until now. She has broken him, as a man breaks a horse. She would ride him to power if she could, and for that she gave my sons to the fire. I will cut the living heart from her breast and see how it burns. He touched the hilt of the fine long Lysene dirk that the captain had given him. [...] A knife in the heart, though . . . even demons can be killed by cold iron, the singers say. [...] "Yes, just so, someone. But not you. You are weak as a child, and no warrior. Stay, I beg you, we will talk more and you will eat, and perhaps we will sail to Braavos and hire a Faceless Man to do this thing, yes? But you, no, you must sit and eat." - Davos II, ASOS

x

Jaime the Kingslayer describes the Mad King's last moments. He wished he could have vanished once it was done.

When Aerys saw the blood on his blade, he demanded to know if it was Lord Tywin's. "I want him dead, the traitor. I want his head, you'll bring me his head, or you'll burn with all the rest. All the traitors. Rossart says they are inside the walls! He's gone to make them a warm welcome. Whose blood? Whose?" [...] Ser Elys Westerling and Lord Crakehall and others of his father's knights burst into the hall in time to see the last of it, so there was no way for Jaime to vanish and let some braggart steal the praise or blame. - Jaime II, ASOS

x

Tyrion searches for hidden passageways in the Red Keep while waiting for Shae. Varys appears disguised as another person.

Varys wrung his hands. "Oh, my lord, nothing would please me more, but . . . King Maegor wanted no rats in his own walls, if you take my meaning. He did require a means of secret egress, should he ever be trapped by his enemies, but that door does not connect with any other passages. [...]

"He's gone," Shae said.

Tyrion turned to look. It was true. The eunuch had vanished, skirts and all. The hidden doors are here somewhere, they have to be. - Tyrion II, ASOS

x

Arya pulls a Davos.

Her hand went under the table to touch the hilt of her dagger, and make sure it was still there. - Arya II, ASOS

+.+.+

Wait, there's more!

THE USURPER'S KNIFE

Daenerys is running.

Thank you, @kadarakey and @aegor-bamfsteel!

The Usurper's hired knives were close behind them, he insisted, though Dany had never seen one. - Daenerys I, AGOT

x

She hated it, as her brother must have. All those years of running from city to city one step ahead of the Usurper's knives, pleading for help from archons and princes and magisters, buying our food with flattery. - Daenerys III, ACOK

x

She was no pampered lady, blind to such things. She had seen cutpurses aplenty in the streets of the Free Cities, during the years she'd spent with her brother, running from the Usurper's hired knives. - Daenerys III, ACOK

x

He had the truth of it, but she did not like the sharpness with which he put it. "Illyrio protected us from the Usurper's knives, and he believed in my brother's cause." - Daenerys III, ACOK

x

She was fleeing again. Her whole life had been one long flight, it seemed. She had begun running in her mother's womb, and never once stopped. How often had she and Viserys stolen away in the black of night, a bare step ahead of the Usurper's hired knives? - Daenerys V, ACOK

x

The narrow sea was often stormy, and Dany had crossed it half a hundred times as a girl, running from one Free City to the next half a step ahead of the Usurper's hired knives. - Daenerys I, ASOS

x

The red door was so far ahead of her, and she could feel the icy breath behind, sweeping up on her. If it caught her she would die a death that was more than death, howling forever alone in the darkness. She began to run. - Daenerys IX, AGOT

+.+.+

Except there were no knives chasing her. Like so many others in the story, Daenerys believes in a threat that was never there.

The king's mouth twisted in a bitter grimace. "No, gods be cursed. Some pox-ridden Pentoshi cheesemonger had her brother and her walled up on his estate with pointy-hatted eunuchs all around them, and now he's handed them over to the Dothraki. I should have had them both killed years ago, when it was easy to get at them, but Jon was as bad as you. More fool I, I listened to him." - Eddard II, AGOT

And now she's running towards the knife.

+.+.+

A dagger in the flesh.

"Daenerys Targaryen has wed some Dothraki horselord. What of it? Shall we send her a wedding gift?"

The king frowned. "A knife, perhaps. A good sharp one, and a bold man to wield it." - Eddard II, AGOT

x

"Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.

"A steel kiss," said Littlefinger. - Eddard VIII, AGOT

x

Her words were a knife through Dany's breast. What had she ever done to make the gods so cruel? - Daenerys VIII, AGOT

x

Mirri Maz Duur chanted words in a tongue that Dany did not know, and a knife appeared in her hand. Dany never saw where it came from. - Daenerys VIII, AGOT

x

Another pain grasped her, and Dany bit back a scream. It felt as if her son had a knife in each hand, as if he were hacking at her to cut his way out. - Daenerys VIII, AGOT

x

A great knife of pain ripped down her back, and she felt her skin tear open and smelled the stench of burning blood and saw the shadow of wings. And Daenerys Targaryen flew. - Daenerys IX, AGOT

x

"This Iron Throne you speak of sounds monstrous cold and hard. I cannot bear the thought of jagged barbs cutting your sweet skin." - Daenerys III, ACOK

x

Pyat Pree was gibbering in some unknown tongue and hopping from one foot to the other. When Dany looked behind her, she saw thin tendrils of smoke forcing their way through cracks in the ancient stone walls of the Palace of Dust, and rising from between the black tiles of the roof.

Howling curses, Pyat Pree drew a knife and danced toward her, but Drogon flew at his face. Then she heard the crack of Jhogo's whip, and never was a sound so sweet. The knife went flying, and an instant later Rakharo was slamming Pyat to the ground. - Daenerys IV, ACOK

x

"A craven's knife can slay a queen as easily as a hero's. I would sleep more soundly if I knew my heart's delight had kept her fierce horselords close around her. In Qarth, you had three bloodriders who never left your side. Wherever have they gone?" - Daenerys III, ADWD

x

Their father, her brother Rhaegar, perished even earlier, slain by the Usurper on the Trident. Her brother Viserys had died screaming in Vaes Dothrak with a crown of molten gold upon his head. They will kill me too if I allow it. The knives that slew my Stalwart Shield were meant for me. - Daenerys I, ADWD

x

Nine. The word was a dagger in her heart. - Daenerys II, ADWD

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Arya loves her daggers.

He'd left his dagger on the table as well, so she took that too, just in case Gendry lost his courage. - Arya X, ACOK

x

She walked fast, to keep ahead of her fear, and it felt as though Syrio Forel walked beside her, and Yoren, and Jaqen H'ghar, and Jon Snow. She had not taken the sword Gendry had brought her, not yet. For this the dagger would be better. - Arya X, ACOK

x

Arya slid her dagger out and drew it across his throat, as smooth as summer silk. - Arya X, ACOK

x

Her sword was still in its sheath across her back, and she kept a hand close to the hilt of the dagger she had stolen from Roose Bolton, in case she didn't like whatever they found within. - Arya II, ASOS

x

I knew they were outlaws, Arya thought, listening. Her hand went under the table to touch the hilt of her dagger, and make sure it was still there. If they try to rob us, they'll be sorry. - Arya II, ASOS

x

She yanked Greenbeard's dagger from its sheath and spun away before he could catch her. Gendry made a grab for her as well, but she had always been too fast for Gendry. - Arya VI, ASOS

x

The Hound sliced the meat with his dagger, and narrowed his eyes when he caught Arya looking at the knife. "Don't even think about it." - Arya IX, ASOS

x

There were two silver stags in the archer's purse, and almost thirty coppers. His dagger had a pretty pink stone in the hilt. The Hound hefted the knife in his hand, then flipped it toward Arya. She caught it by the hilt, slid it through her belt, and felt a little better. It wasn't Needle, but it was steel. - Arya XII, ASOS

x

They're killing him. Arya had no more cups, but there was something better to throw. She drew the dagger they'd robbed off the dying archer and tried to fling it at the Tickler the way he'd done. - Arya XIII, ASOS

x

Gather your belongings, the captain had said, but there were few enough of those. Only the clothes she was wearing, her little pouch of coins, the gifts the crew had given her, the dagger on her left hip and Needle on her right. - Arya I, AFFC

x

In the black of night she rose again, donned the clothes she'd worn from Westeros, and buckled on her swordbelt. Needle hung from one hip, her dagger from the other. - Arya II, AFFC

x

The Tickler hung on the wall as well, the black holes that were his eyes swimming with malice. The sight of him brought back the feel of the dagger in her hand as she had plunged it into his back, again and again and again. - The Ugly Little Girl, ADWD

x

"Dragons," she whispered. She slid Needle out from under her cloak. The slender blade seemed very small and the dragons very big, yet somehow Arya felt better with steel in her hand. - Arya IV, AGOT

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Chapter transitions that make you go hmmm:

AGOT: Jon II -> Daenerys II

"First lesson," Jon said. "Stick them with the pointy end." Arya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot. "I know which end to use," Arya said. - Jon II, AGOT

AGOT: Arya II -> Daenerys III

"Arya, what did you think to do with this … Needle? Who did you hope to skewer? Your sister? Septa Mordane? Do you know the first thing about sword fighting?"

All she could think of was the lesson Jon had given her. "Stick them with the pointy end," she blurted out. - Arya II, AGOT

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Uh oh, parallels:

Jon recalls something while being stabbed to death by daggers.

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 … - Jon XIII, ADWD

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Tracking the Usurper's Knife:

Robert -> Joffrey

Instead he went poking among his father's weapons. Robert Baratheon was a man of careless generosity, and would have given his son any dagger he wanted . . . but Tyrion guessed that the boy had just taken it. - Tyrion VIII, ASOS

Joffrey -> Catspaw

Instead the boy found his catspaw among the unsavory lot of freeriders, merchants, and camp followers who'd attached themselves to the king's party as they made their way north. Some poxy lackwit willing to risk his life for a prince's favor and a little coin. - Tyrion VIII, ASOS

Catspaw -> Catelyn

He saw his mother sitting alone in a cabin, looking at a bloodstained knife on a table in front of her, as the rowers pulled at their oars and Ser Rodrik leaned across a rail, shaking and heaving. - Bran III, AGOT

Catelyn -> Ned

Catelyn slid a dagger out from under her cloak and placed it in his hand. "This blade was sent to open Bran's throat and spill his life's blood."

[...]

"Very well," he said, thrusting the dagger into his belt. - Eddard IV, AGOT

Ned -> Littlefinger

"You forget," Ned told him. "You forget Jon Arryn. You forget Jory Cassel. And you forget this." He drew the dagger and laid it on the table between them; a length of dragonbone and Valyrian steel, as sharp as the difference between right and wrong, between true and false, between life and death. "They sent a man to cut my son's throat, Lord Baelish." - Eddard XIII, AGOT

x

As his men died around him, Littlefinger slid Ned's dagger from its sheath and shoved it up under his chin. His smile was apologetic. "I did warn you not to trust me, you know." - Eddard XIV, AGOT

Littlefinger -> ???

Petyr cut a pomegranate in two with his dagger, offering half to Sansa. "You should try and eat, my lady."

[...]

"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." - Sansa VI, ASOS

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Who will get the Usurper's Knife next?!

Tune in next time to find out!

right weapon, wrong villain, right weapon, wrong villain, right weapon, wrong villain

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BRAN THE DRAGONSLAYER?

Bran can be brave.

Bran thought about it. "Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?"

"That is the only time a man can be brave," his father told him. "Do you understand why I did it?" - Bran I, AGOT

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Chapter transitions that make you go hmmm:

AGOT: Daenerys III -> Bran IV

"No dragon," Irri said. "Brave men kill them, for dragon terrible evil beasts. It is known." - Daenerys III, AGOT

ACOK: Daenerys II -> Bran IV

"Dragons die." She stood on her toes to kiss him lightly on an unshaven cheek. "But so do dragonslayers." - Daenerys II, ACOK

ASOS: Daenerys II -> Bran II

It was too dangerous to let them fly freely over the city; the world was all too full of men who would gladly kill them for no better reason than to name themselves dragonslayer. - Daenerys II, ASOS

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Dragonslayers die?

"Dragons die." She stood on her toes to kiss him lightly on an unshaven cheek. "But so do dragonslayers." - Daenerys II, ACOK

x

"But there is no pack," she whispered to the weirwood. Bran and Rickon were dead - Arya X, ACOK

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Dragon or eagle?

Thrice that day she caught sight of Drogon. Once he was so far off that he might have been an eagle, slipping in and out of distant clouds, but Dany knew the look of him by now, even when he was no more than a speck. The second time he passed before the sun, his black wings spread, and the world darkened. - Daenerys X, ADWD

x

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 . . . - Jon VII, ACOK

x

Something was moving atop one of them, he saw. A dragon, but which one? At this distance, it could as easily have been an eagle. A very big eagle. - Tyrion II, TWOW

x

She had a woman's face, with gilded hair, ivory eyes, and pointed ivory teeth. Water gushed yellow from her heavy breasts. But in place of arms she had the wings of a bat or a dragon, her legs were the legs of an eagle, and behind she wore a scorpion's curled and venomous tail. - Daenerys II, ASOS

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Bran attempts to slip into an eagle.

<- Daenerys II, ASOS

"Look," she said, pointing at the sky with her frog spear, "an eagle."

Bran lifted his head and saw it, its grey wings spread and still as it floated on the wind. He followed it with his eyes as it circled higher, wondering what it would be like to soar about the world so effortless. Better than climbing, even. He tried to reach the eagle, to leave his stupid crippled body and rise into the sky to join it, the way he joined with Summer. The greenseers could do it. I should be able to do it too. He tried and tried, until the eagle vanished in the golden haze of the afternoon. "It's gone," he said, disappointed.

"We'll see others," said Meera. "They live up here."

"I suppose." - Bran II, ASOS

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Practice makes perfect.

<- Daenerys I, ASOS

"No," said Jojen, "only a boy who dreams. The greenseers were more than that. They were wargs as well, as you are, and the greatest of them could wear the skins of any beast that flies or swims or crawls, and could look through the eyes of the weirwoods as well, and see the truth that lies beneath the world. Bran I, ASOS

x

"If we were eagles we might fly," said Jojen sharply, "but we have no wings, no more than we have horses." - Bran I, ASOS

x

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. - Jon X, ASOS

x

"A wild stallion will buck and kick when a man tries to mount him, and try to bite the hand that slips the bit between his teeth," Lord Brynden said, "but a horse that has known one rider will accept another. Young or old, these birds have all been ridden. Choose one now, and fly."

He chose one bird, and then another, without success, but the third raven looked at him with shrewd black eyes, tilted its head, and gave a quork, and quick as that he was not a boy looking at a raven but a raven looking at a boy. The song of the river suddenly grew louder, the torches burned a little brighter than before, and the air was full of strange smells. When he tried to speak it came out in a scream, and his first flight ended when he crashed into a wall and ended back inside his own broken body. The raven was unhurt. It flew to him and landed on his arm, and Bran stroked its feathers and slipped inside of it again. Before long he was flying around the cavern, weaving through the long stone teeth that hung down from the ceiling, even flapping out over the abyss and swooping down into its cold black depths. - Bran III, ADWD

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All men die, and every beast that flies.

"All men die," he could almost hear her say, "and women too, and every beast that flies or swims or runs. It's not the when o' dying that matters, it's the how of it, Jon Snow." 

[...]

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. - Jon X, ASOS

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STORM X STORM 🦑🖤🐉

Parallels that make us laugh: storm edition.

No squall could frighten Dany, though. Daenerys Stormborn, she was called, for she had come howling into the world on distant Dragonstone as the greatest storm in the memory of Westeros howled outside, a storm so fierce that it ripped gargoyles from the castle walls and smashed her father's fleet to kindling. - Daenerys I, ASOS

x

A smile played across Euron's blue lips. "I am the storm, my lord. The first storm, and the last. I have taken the Silence on longer voyages than this, and ones far more hazardous. Have you forgotten? I have sailed the Smoking Sea and seen Valyria." - The Reaver, AFFC

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Parallels that make us laugh: Silence vs. Drogon edition.

"Euron. Crow's Eye, they call him, as black a pirate as ever raised a sail. He's been gone for years, but Lord Balon was no sooner cold than there he was, sailing into Lordsport in his Silence. Black sails and a red hull, and crewed by mutes. - Catelyn V, ASOS

x

Above them all the dragon turned, dark against the sun. His scales were black, his eyes and horns and spinal plates blood red. Ever the largest of her three, in the wild Drogon had grown larger still. His wings stretched twenty feet from tip to tip, black as jet. He flapped them once as he swept back above the sands, and the sound was like a clap of thunder. The boar raised his head, snorting … and flame engulfed him, black fire shot with red. - Daenerys IX, ADWD

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Parallels that make us laugh: the iron price edition.

Daario had plundered himself a whole new wardrobe in Meereen, and to match it he had redyed his trident beard and curly hair a deep rich purple. It made his eyes look almost purple too, as if he were some lost Valyrian. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

x

Her bloodriders were waiting for her. Silver bells tinkled in their oiled braids, and they wore the gold and jewels of dead men. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

x

In the Old Way, women might decorate themselves with ornaments bought with coin, but a warrior wore only the jewelry he took off the corpses of enemies slain by his own hand. Paying the iron price, it was called. - Theon I, ACOK

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She even liked the sailors.

She loved the sea. She liked the sharp salty smell of the air, and the vastness of horizons bounded only by a vault of azure sky above. It made her feel small, but free as well. She liked the dolphins that sometimes swam along beside Balerion, slicing through the waves like silvery spears, and the flying fish they glimpsed now and again. She even liked the sailors, with all their songs and stories. Once on a voyage to Braavos, as she'd watched the crew wrestle down a great green sail in a rising gale, she had even thought how fine it would be to be a sailor. - Daenerys I, ASOS

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Krakens vs. Dragons.

"In the Seven Kingdoms, there are tales of dragons who grew so huge that they could pluck giant krakens from the seas."

Dany laughed. "That would be a wondrous sight to see." - Daenerys I, ASOS

x

"There are dangers at sea as well. Corsairs and pirates hunt the southern route, and north of Valyria the Smoking Sea is demon-haunted. The next storm could sink or scatter us, a kraken could pull us under . . . - Daenerys I, ASOS

x

The eunuch drew a parchment from his sleeve. "A kraken has been seen off the Fingers." He giggled. "Not a Greyjoy, mind you, a true kraken. It attacked an Ibbenese whaler and pulled it under. There is fighting on the Stepstones, and a new war between Tyrosh and Lys seems likely. Both hope to win Myr as ally. Sailors back from the Jade Sea report that a three-headed dragon has hatched in Qarth, and is the wonder of that city—"

"Dragons and krakens do not interest me, regardless of the number of their heads," said Lord Tywin. - Tyrion III, ASOS

x

Then she saw it: an uprooted tree, huge and dark, coming straight at them. A tangle of roots and limbs poked up out of the water as it came, like the reaching arms of a great kraken. - Arya IX, ASOS

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Daenerys dreams of banners.

I ought to have a banner sewn, she thought as she led her tattered band up along Astapor's meandering river. She closed her eyes to imagine how it would look: all flowing black silk, and on it the red three-headed dragon of Targaryen, breathing golden flames. A banner such as Rhaegar might have borne. - Daenerys III, ASOS

x

A cloth dragon swayed on poles amidst a cheering crowd. - Daenerys IV, ASOS

x

Tyrion I, TWOW:

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Drowning in his eyes.

"A great talker, you mean."

"He brings us the Stormcrows." And he has blue eyes. - Daenerys IV, ASOS

x

The dragon has three heads, but I have only one. She thought of Daario. If ever there was a man who could rape a woman with his eyes . . .

To be sure, she was just as guilty. Dany found herself stealing looks at the Tyroshi when her captains came to council, and sometimes at night she remembered the way his gold tooth glittered when he smiled. That, and his eyes. His bright blue eyes. - Daenerys V, ASOS

x

Euron was the most comely of Lord Quellon's sons, and three years of exile had not changed that. His hair was still black as a midnight sea, with never a whitecap to be seen, and his face was still smooth and pale beneath his neat dark beard. A black leather patch covered Euron's left eye, but his right was blue as a summer sky. - The Iron Captain, AFFC

+.+.+

Daenerys yearns for a dangerously cruel man.

Dany tried to imagine what it would be like if she allowed Daario to kiss her, the way Jorah had kissed her on the ship. The thought was exciting and disturbing, both at once. It is too great a risk. The Tyroshi sellsword was not a good man, no one needed to tell her that. Under the smiles and the jests he was dangerous, even cruel. - Daenerys V, ASOS

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ASOS: PART III

Touch me.

JONSA 🐺❤️❄️

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#operation stumpy re-read #foreshadowing smorgasbord #asos summary #anti daenerys #anti jonerys #jon snow #arya stark #bran stark #stark vs. targ #storm x storm #asoiaf