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homomenhommes · 2 months

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THIS DAY IN GAY HISTORY

based on: The White Crane Institute's 'Gay Wisdom', Gay Birthdays, Gay For Today, Famous GLBT, glbt-Gay Encylopedia, Today in Gay History, Wikipedia, and more … February 29

It's Leap-Day, February 29, the day added to our calendar to make the adjustment for all those little extra seconds each day which don't fit into out existing regular calendar. Beware of women who might want to propose to you. If you turn them down—and you probably will—you are expected to buy them a gift!

A better suggestion is to hang out with your best butt-buddy and play a game of naked leapfrog. Who knows? Maybe he will propose to you, and you can settle down and play house—and all the other indoor and outdoor activities gay men love, such as Hide the Wiener, Handballs, Cross-country rutting, Muff Diving and the old favorite, Camping. The occasional eating out will be an added treat.

1938 – Superman aka Kal-El aka Clark Kent was born on this day (maybe). Superman only celebrates his birthday on February 29th, which explains why he can look so good even though he's pushing 80. It’s a handy way to explain why a guy who has been fighting crime since 1938 doesn’t appear to age.

February 29th, 1988 was Superman’s “official” 50th birthday celebration, marked by a special edition of Time Magazine and a nearly unwatchable “comedy” special that aired on network TV. More importantly, February 29th is the date that “For the Man Who Has Everything,” one of the greatest Superman stories ever told, takes place, which is clearly marked as Superman’s birthday.

Whatever Kal-El’s actual birthday would be on Krypton depends on how you want to interpret the intricacies of the Kryptonian calendar. A Kryptonian “year” is known as a “zetyar,” which is equivalent to roughly 500 Earth days. By the reckoning of the Kryptonian calendar, Kal-El was born on 38 Eorx 9998. The weirdness of the Kryptonian calendar might offer a possible explanation here, so maybe 38 Eorx 9998 fell on the equivalent of February 29th on Earth. Then again, it’s best not to think too hard about this.

On the other hand, Clark Kent’s birthday would have to be the day his foster parents found his rocket. Superman: Secret Origin by Geoff Johns and Gary Frank put Clark Kent’s birthday on December 1st. Some comic book accounts place it in October, while others put it on June 18th. June is significant since Action Comics #1 has a June, 1938 cover date. You can’t put too much stock in that, though. Because of the weirdness of comic book cover dating practices (they were competitively dated months in advance), it probably actually hit newsstands in late February or early March of 1938. Also, there was no February 29th in 1938.

We are not trying to suggest here that Superman is gay. Far from it, but many of us as gay teens surely hoped he was, imagining him naked and jerking off to the idea. (I, for one, used to get great pleasure out of drawing him sans pants and with an enormous erection! — Ted)

However, Superman's son, Jon, is definitely gay. He came out of the closet in Superman - Son of Kal-El #5. He has fallen for a human named Jay with purple hair and extra powers such as the ability to walk through walls.

1948 – Willi Smith, cofounder of the WilliWear company, has been called "the most successful black designer in fashion history." He favored natural fabrics and unconstructed clothes since they are more practical for the average consumer. "Models pose in clothes," he said. "People live in them."

Another leap-year baby, Willi Donnell Smith was born in Philadelphia on leap-day. Smith took inspiration from his parents and grandmother, who always dressed fashionably despite being on limited budgets. After studying commercial art, Smith enrolled at the Philadelphia College of Art to study fashion illustration in 1962. He soon realized, however, that he wanted to be a designer.

He earned two scholarships to the Parsons School of Design in New York in 1965. Soon after arriving in the city he began doing freelance work for the designer Arnold Scaasi and the Bobbie Brooks sportswear company. In 1967 he quit school to pursue his career full-time. By 1969 his name was on the label of clothing made by Digits, a sportswear company.

Willi Smith continued doing freelance work until 1976, when he entered into another business partnership, this time with Laurie Mallet, with whom he co-founded WilliWear. Smith and Mallet had met in 1970, when both were working at Digits. After leaving Digits, the two went their separate professional ways, Mallet working primarily in importing textiles and clothing.

WilliWear got off to a modest start. Mallet financed a trip to India so that she and Smith could buy materials and create their first collection. They used the only fabric available, cotton, and, unable to find buttons, designed wrap-around coats. Thus, their initial twelve-piece collection had what would become hallmarks of Willi Smith designs--natural fabrics, a relaxed, comfortable fit, colorful and eye-catching material, and a reasonable price tag.

Smith's eclectic, whimsical, and inventive designs attracted the attention of fashion editors and buyers from department stores and clothing chains such as TJ Maxx. Customers responded favorably, and the fledgling company soon became established in the industry.

Smith's style has been described as "street couture," a designation with which Smith quibbled. While acknowledging that he was acutely aware of what was being worn on the streets of America, he emphasized that he was not designing "for young people who like to look alike," but rather for people who wanted "real clothes" but with a sense of designer fashion.

At first WilliWear produced only women's clothing, but in 1978 the WilliWear Men line was added.

Each year Smith spent several months in India, working on fabrics and designs. On a trip in February 1987 he contracted shigella, a parasitic disease that causes dysentery. His health declined rapidly, and he was hospitalized with pneumonia in April. Two days later he died. A subsequent autopsy revealed that he had AIDS. The news came as a complete surprise to his business partner, Mallet, who said that she had "absolutely no clue" that Smith had AIDS. She described Smith as "fragile" and said that coworkers "were used to him not feeling well, not coming to work." If Smith knew the nature of his illness, however, he did not disclose it to them.

By the time of Smith's death, WilliWear was selling over 25 million dollars' worth of clothing a year. In addition to his retail ventures, Smith occasionally worked for individual clients. For example, he designed suits for Edwin Schlossberg and his groomsmen when Schlossberg married Caroline Kennedy in 1986. He also designed clothing for Spike Lee's film School Daze (1987).

A commemorative panel for Smith is part of the AIDS quilt. He is also remembered in a list of gay black AIDS sufferers in the poem I Speak: A Poem for the Millennium March by Keith Boykin, which the author read at the Millennium March on Washington for Equality on April 29, 2000.

1972 – Pedro Zamora (d.1994) was a Cuban-American AIDS educator and television personality. As one of the first openly gay men with AIDS to be portrayed in popular media, Zamora brought international attention to HIV/AIDS and LGBT issues and prejudices through his appearance on MTV's reality television series, The Real World: San Francisco.

When his mother died when he was thirteen, he went into denial by throwing himself into his schoolwork, and by having promiscuous sex. He was an honors student, president of the Science Club, captain of the Cross-Country team, and as one of the most popular students in Hialeah High School, was voted Most Intellectual and Most All-Around. His mother's death inspired him to become a doctor, but he replaced her presence in his life by becoming sexually active with many male partners.

He was ignorant of safe sex, as the only AIDS education he received was in the seventh grade from a man who did not present the disease as a legitimate threat to him, but as something distant that only afflicted societal undesirables like prostitutes, drug addicts and homosexuals. Things such as sex and condoms were never mentioned, and thus Zamora never identified himself as someone at risk.

When he was fourteen, his father, suspecting his son was gay, had his brother follow him when he was supposed to be going out with a group of friends, only to find Zamora with his boyfriend. Zamora admitted his sexual orientation when his father confronted him. Hector, rather than being upset, was concerned over the homophobia to which his son might be subjected, but affirmed that he would be supportive of his son.

In his junior year of high school, Zamora donated blood during a Red Cross blood drive, and received a letter saying that his blood tested "reactive", though it did not specify for what, as the general screening was for a variety of viruses and infections. Zamora decided to be tested, and on November 9, 1989, the results confirmed that he had HIV.

He decided to graduate from high school before he died, though he did not give much thought to his health, as he was still in denial. He graduated high school in 1990, a year early, but five months later, he suffered a severe case of shingles that covered the entire right side of his body and face. With medication, the condition subsided after two months, but it inspired Zamora to join a Miami-based HIV/AIDS resource center called Body Positive, where he met others with HIV and AIDS, and educated himself about the disease, learning how to lead a positive life with it. Soon thereafter, he began to talk about his condition to others to attempt to raise awareness about the disease in his community.

Zamora decided to make a career as an AIDS educator. He began to lecture at schools of all levels, PTA meetings, churches, and anyone else who would listen, traveling the country, sitting on the boards of various AIDS organizations, and hoping to use what time he had left to prevent others from sharing his fate.

At the age of 19, his work came into national focus when Eric Morganthaler wrote a front page article about him for the Wall Street Journal, resulting in talk show interviews by Geraldo Rivera, Phil Donahue and Oprah Winfrey.

Though Zamora was gay, he chose to not make that explicit point to school children, preferring to emphasize to them that he got the disease through unprotected sex, so as to underscore the fact that both homosexuals and heterosexuals could contract HIV.

On July 12, 1993, he testified before the United States Congress, arguing for more explicit HIV/AIDS educational programs, saying, "If you want to reach me as a young man - especially a young gay man of color - then you need to give me information in a language and vocabulary I can understand and relate to."

In 1993, Zamora met a fellow AIDS educator named Sean Sasser during a gay/lesbian march in Washington D.C., when both were involved with other people, and they became friends. The constant travel took its toll on Zamora, who at times was so tired that he was forced to cancel speaking engagements.

In mid-1993, Zamora learned that MTV was casting for the next season of their reality TV show, The Real World, which would take place in San Francisco. His best friend and roommate, Alex Escarano, convinced him to put together an audition tape, arguing that he could reach more people simply by living in The Real World house than through the cross-country travel that exhausted him. Six months later, Zamora was informed that he had been chosen to be a castmate on the show, beating out 25,000 applicants.

The Real World: S.F cast

Zamora and his six castmates (Mohammed Bilal, Rachel Campos, Pam Ling, Cory Murphy, David "Puck" Rainey, and Judd Winick) moved into the house at 953 Lombard Street on Russian Hill on February 12, 1994. While the producers informed the other six housemates that they would be living with someone HIV-positive, they did not tell them who it was.

Zamora informed his roommate, Judd Winick, that he was the one with AIDS by telling him he was an AIDS educator, and the rest of the cast by showing them a scrapbook of his career as an AIDS educator.

Sean Sasser had been living in San Francisco for a couple of years, so when Zamora moved into the loft, he and Sean began dating. Zamora asked the show's producers for permission to go out without cameras, so that he and Sasser could get to know one another in a more natural setting. The producers allowed this, and the two young men fell in love. Sasser proposed to Zamora, and the two exchanged vows in a commitment ceremony in the loft. Their relationship was nominated for "Favorite Love Story" at the 2008 Real Worlds Awards Bash.

Zamora's health continued to deteriorate, however. Although he was able to participate in activities like parasailing during the group's trip to Hawaii, the cast grew more worried about him nonetheless, often covering up for him during their weekly "confessional" interviews with the producers by telling them that Zamora was doing fine when they knew otherwise.

The cast moved out of the loft on June 19, 1994, and the first episodes of The Real World: San Francisco began airing a week later.

Wishing not to subject his family to a slow and prolonged death as had occurred with his mother, Zamora stated his wish not to be kept alive by artificial means. Hospitalized and unable to speak for almost a month, being fed intravenously, and becoming unresponsive, his family honored his wishes, and withdrew life support, including medication, food and water. Surrounded by his family, Zamora died on November 11, 1994, the day after the final episode of The Real World: San Francisco aired.

U.S. President Bill Clinton credited Zamora with personalizing and humanizing those living with HIV—especially to Latino communities—with his activism, including his testimony before Congress. His romantic relationship with Sean Sasser was also documented on the show with the two getting married on air; their relationship was later nominated by MTV viewers for "Favorite Love Story" award. Zamora's personal struggle with AIDS, and his conflict with housemate David "Puck" Rainey is credited with helping to make The Real World a hit show, for which Time ranked it #7 on their list of 32 Epic Moments in Reality-TV History.

1988 – Joel Kim Booster is an American actor, comedian, and writer. He is best known for his Comedy Central Stand-Up Presents stand-up special.

Kim Booster was born in South Korea and was adopted by a white American couple as an infant. He was raised in Plainfield, Illinois in a conservative, Evangelical Christian family and was initially homeschooled. He went to public school for the first time when he was 16, which he described as his "first time being around non-religious people." He knew he was gay from childhood but kept it a secret. His senior year in high school, his parents found out he was gay by reading his diary where he had described his sexual encounters with other boys. Kim Booster moved out and began to couchsurf until he stayed with a family friend.

He studied theater at Millikin University for his bachelor's degree.Living in Chicago, he took a job as a copywriter and began to perform in theater and write jokes after work. Kim Booster began his stand-up career in an unconventional fashion by opening up for plays in Chicago's theater scene. He then moved to New York in 2014 to pursue a career in comedy. He performed a set on Conan in 2016. He then appeared in his own Comedy Central Stand-Up Presents special in 2017. Kim Booster has also written for the shows Billy on the Street, Big Mouth, and The Other Two.

Kim Booster often talks about his sexuality in his stand-up. He has stated that he knew he was gay before he knew he was Asian.

"Me too!"

1988 – Svend Robinson becomes Canada's first elected Member of Parliament to come out as gay.

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bluegekk0 · 6 months

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If anything I think you should speak more, because I love everything you write (and draw.) You've been one of my biggest inspirations to go back and give all of my ocs actual stories instead of just designs.

In fact, ever since you mentioned having non-fpk family ocs before, I have been incredibly curious.

Please feed me all of the information like a bird feeding its young, except its letters going into my eyes instead of food going into my mouth

you have no idea how much that warms my heart, i'm really flattered that you see me as an inspiration. it's all i could really ask for

i do have some ocs, yeah. though i will say, the fpk au characters are definitely outliers when it comes to the amount of personality and lore they have. most of my ocs have very basic backstories, and many of them only do because i used to roleplay as them with my friends. a lot of my original designs that i'm attached to don't even have names, let alone personalities

since i'll be posting a lot of pictures, i'll throw this under a read more so it's not too long

i guess i'll start with my oldest oc, a lion king character who used to be my "fursona" (well not exactly, since i've never considered myself a furry. but persona wouldn't fit here) years ago, back in 2012 i believe. she went through a lot of changes over the years, but i've settled on a design that i really like

her name is swahibu (used to be swahili, i wasn't particularly creative, and i changed it recently since it was a bit awkward for her to be named after the entire language hahaha), and she has a little brother named kobe. their lore isn't anything too elaborate, they're essentially scar's grandchildren who used to be outlanders, but after the events of the second movie joined the pridelands. swahibu is bitter and a bit mean, but cares very much about her little brother. she got her scars in a fight with rogue lions which unfortunately ended with their mother's death, so they're now on their own. kobe is a smart cub, and brings a bit of joy and innocence to his big sister's life. as they both resemble their grandfather more than they'd like, they're often the object of nasty comments from those who lived under his tyrannical rule, though they do eventually earn the pridelanders' respect. not much else to say about them, except that i like to hc swahibu as gay. also, they have a very simple family tree that i made to show what their parents looked like, here (might not work if you don't have a deviantart account, but i'm not sure)

next up, there's a character i've considered my persona for quite some time, and one i used to put in many funny scenarios with my friends' ocs. he also changed the most out of all of them throughout the years, and recently i gave him a more furry like design as i hate drawing human faces haha

his name is rick, and he's a hybrid of all kinds of different animals. he's very laid back and lazy, though the fact that he's a hybrid gives him some animal-like traits and behaviors. he used to have a backstory but it's kind of stupid so i'm considering changing it, but he was basically created in a lab and then released after it was shut down. now he lives on his own with his cat, jon. he's one of those characters who are very flexible, so if i wanted to, i could modify him to fit into any scenario (for example, he used to have an assassins creed universe version which i used for roleplay years ago hahaha). not much else to say since i'm still in the (slow) process of changing him

i also have a lot of dragon characters, most of them were made for the purpose of a larger roleplay story with my friends. in general i take 'dragon' as a very vague term, since to me a dragon can look however you want and all those classification rules are kinda stupid. but you'll still a bit of, idk, i guess a paleoart like direction for their designs, since i like speculative biology and such. also, some of these originated as heavily based on some of my favorite characters at the time, you'll see that with the first one especially

his name is stark and he's probably the dragon that has the most lore behind him. i won't go into too many details regarding the backstory since it's long and very connected to the roleplay (you know, bit of a "you just had to be there" moment haha). but tl;dr he was taken in by a village and raised from hatchling, so he's very docile and a little bit confused. the village was attacked and he was able to survive, but one of his legs was scarred pretty badly, so he noticeably limps while walking. he's a semi-aquatic dragon, so he's an excellent swimmer. funnily enough, he went through a complete "reboot" a few years ago. in the original rp, he was a massive asshole, he'd hurt others for his own amusement and was generally very aggressive and not pleasant to be around. also, he had a prosthetic leg, though i scrapped that as it was far too advanced for the setting i envisioned him in. i much prefer this direction, i love my giant himbo gator-dragon. and i wonder how many of you can guess what character was the inspiration for his appearance (it used to be a lot more obvious in his first design iterations)

(and no, his wing isn't missing. this is just to show his back haha)

these next three don't really have too much backstory to them. well, except for the first one, his name is ithaar, and he was one of my first ocs ever. he went through a massive redesign quite recently, so he has close to nothing in common with his first iterations. the other two characters, eurus and ash, were made for rp purposes quite recently, and so don't have too much lore behind them

ith is a bit of a coward, he struggles with his self-confidence and believes everyone sees him as insignificant due to his small size and inability to fly. he can camouflage, though, so he's a lot cooler than he thinks. also, he moves by hopping around like a little kangaroo. his design is very dromaeosaur-like, with short stubby arms and yi-qi inspired wings

eurus is very pterosaur-like, though much larger than even the largest azhdarchids. he doesn't like the company of others, he's a bit of a loner (with trauma!). he may seem mean on the surface, but his past experiences make him unable to walk past someone who's in need. not quite a gentle giant, though. i think it's easy to see which pterosaurs in particular were the inspiration for his design, though his crests are very dilophosaurus-like

the last one is ash, and she's the newest addition to the roster. her rp session was very short and didn't really add much to her lore, but she's generally a huge jerk who likes annoying others and stealing from them. but of course, it wouldn't be an oc of mine if there wasn't some trauma involved, and she's no exception. she believes she doesn't fit anywhere, she felt rejected by her own kind for her unnatural abilities (she can move things with her mind), and so she copes with it by being a prick. her design was inspired by junker queen from overwatch haha

---

i also have four night fury characters i made during my httyd phase, and i redesigned them about a year ago to be a lot more "natural" in their appearance. they used to be quite a bit more colorful back in the day, and not in the good way haha

their names are vel'ri, sherok, atis and marivo. no real backstory, just vibes. the first one used to be my "main" character during the httyd phase. vel'ri and atis are female, sherok and marivo are male

and lastly, some non-dragon characters. these don't really have any backstory that i think is worth sharing, but i still love them very much

this one is named rugat and they're a genderless, shapeshifting magma alien thing. i don't know what they are. i just really like their design. they're aggressive, but they have a soft spot for small, weak creatures. god knows what their reasoning is, but i thought it was a cute personality trait

and these two are named lox and bagel. they're a ragarox, an original species i made years ago when it was cool and hip to have a closed species. they're eyeless cave dwelling lizard things. very chubby. these two guys are not related but they hang out all the time. 🏳️‍🌈 perhaps?

lox, on the left, is the more active and territorial of the two. but he's also super affectionate towards bagel

bagel, on the other hand, is the couch potato. very round and chubby, 10/10

as a fun fact i like to think their long tongues have very distinct smells. lox's smells like lime, while bagel's smells a bit like blueberry

and lastly, here are two unnamed characters. i like their designs but i haven't had the chance or inspiration to think of any details about them

the first one is an okapi-like thing. with a kitty face. the second is like a weird mix between a ceratopsid and some kind of mammal

oh and, here's some redesigns of old dragon characters that i forgot to mention earlier. they used to be very different (all but one were inspired by other characters, but you can't see it on their current designs), and i don't have any backstories for them yet. their names are also going to be changed, so consider them nameless for now

(fun fact: the top left one was one of the first iterations of eurus' design, but i decided to turn it into a different character cause i still like it)

#ask stuff #gekko.art #my ocs

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rocketpunchblam · 9 months

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Do you have any more info on your cowboy au?

I'm going to be honest plot wise I don't have a lot down as I am focusing on the designs (which I will probably post tomorrow) but I do talk a lot about in my scriddler discord server! (Read the rules if you join)

some things I do have for the au

It takes place late 1800's, jervis isn't the horse they ride he's a mini horse, Edward needs glasses but can't get them (money issues and pride), Jon has two main outfits , 1) his 'scarecrow ' look, 2)just a everyday outfit

crane actually has a house that resides in the community called gotham

Also should clarify Jervis isnt a huge character in this it's mostly just something that makes me laugh

these characters are more of side characters in the main plot of it all but, boomerang is a deputy, Harley is a outlaw cowgirl who is in love with poison ivy who is some fucked up creature I dunno haven't settled on exact idea for that.

I'm also open to suggestions for the au!!

#poison ivy #pamela isley #Harley Quinn #riddler #edward nygma #jonathan crane #ask #scriddler #jervis tetch #Mad hatter dc #Scarecrow dc #Cowboy au #captain boomerang #digger harkness #That's his name right #Ty for the ask!!

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buttertheflame · 6 months

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Open Call for Feedback 🔎

Hi Jonerys lovers, I’m a fic writer who’s been on hiatus for a few years and I’m back. Check out the prose. Does it drone on? I’m in the editing phase…

A Normal Family

4k words, Jon x Dany, Dany POV, post-ADWD, TWOW-speculation

(excerpt from chapter 1 of a 5-part au fic, sequel to A Long Way Home)

Castle Black

Present: 302 AC

Winter

She knew it was a dream when she felt the heat, for in Volantis, the air was hot and dewey—the evening almost as sweltering as the day. At first, Daenerys thought she was breathing fire—it was such a beautiful thing—as the oily Black Walls of eastern Volantis’s old blood gained a vermilion glow in the night. Within, a labyrinth of palaces, cloisters and temples burst into flame. Then out of the ashes came waves of slaves of every designation, crying, The Princess Who Was Promised! There were dozens. The dark eye has begun to lift from her! There were hundreds. The minions of the night will lose their temples of deceit! Then there were thousands. She will bring an endless Summer, and those who die fighting her cause shall be reborn! And tens of thousands. She is Azor Ahai reborn! Wait! Wait for the return of the blazing comet! Lord of Light, herald her coming!

“Yes!” she cried in ecstasy, carried by their fervor. “Yes!”

Daenerys could not even search for her sense of shame, for her Lord would not allow it. Not even when the great river westward then rushed to meet her, and took her through valleys at the feet of countless mountains. Far ahead, the Rhoyne broke into three different tributaries, causing the air to cool with them. Below, a field of poppies dotted the earth. It is the Trident, she realized, and settled herself further in the saddle upon Drogon’s back. She remembered. Her foes would appear, armored in ice, and she would burn them all.

Instead, a lone rider came upon a hill. The red helm of a two-headed dragon took shape, dotted with four rubies for eyes. The black visor was lifted. Daenerys did not wish to see her beautiful brother die again, so she opened her mouth to warn him, but she would not be heeded. Rhaegar turned to face the antlered yellow and black rider who had trailed behind him, thus revealing an infant in his free arm. She startled as the babe, held tight to his black gleaming breastplate, gazed at him in wonder. His buoyant laughter mingled with Rhaegar’s soothing voice. The father’s lips pressed to the soft infant crown, from which sad and sweet notes rose.

“He fixed himself wholly

And laid in the earth.

Then fashioned his crown

From a field of dirks.”

Daenerys mustered up a sob so strong it caused her to wake.

After a choked beat, she found Jon Snow next to her, his back also flat to the feather bed of their private room, his face turned to train dark eyes upon her, in the gloom of the very late night or very early morning. She had not wanted to look too closely at the red priests of Essos who had called her this promised prince. It was a legacy she did not want. When his fine hands reached her face, Daenerys’s mind grew desperate. I must pursue the Iron Throne. Jon wiped away her fresh tears then drew her into his arms.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

She nodded against his chest, but failed to shake the tension from her belly and limbs. Her heart quivered with guilt for keeping this from Jon, and fear, over what he had revealed to her last night. I could have become one of them, he had told her, a week ago back in Winterfell. As she wondered why hadn’t he become one of those vicious wights when his body had lain cold for two days, the guilt that followed and her grief for Viserion stayed her tongue. Then he’d promised to give her the realm and afterward settle them on Dragonstone, once the wars were won. She couldn’t help but hold onto his promise.

A family and the realm. Surely, they could have both? But given the fresh news, she wondered…could hers and Jon’s children be safe with him? Could their line be safe with him? Could she and her royal consort truly achieve this goal? A family and the realm.

She thought of the cautious, wise and bold Ser Barristan Selmy, the Commander of her Queensguard who had lost his life half a world away fighting the reignited war against the Essosi slave cities. No more than a hundred days prior, it had been in a moment of relative peace, while the killings and slayings of her people were still going on: as she considered marrying the snake zo Loraq to broker peace, Ser Barristan had cautioned against marrying for political gain only, but to also consider love. He said that her grandsire Jaeherys had commanded his children to wed, for a woodswitch long favored by her grandmother had visited the Red Keep to prophesy that the prince was promised would be born of their line.

Daenerys jerked, then pulled away from Jon.

If this prince is what Jon said it meant…perhaps he had been born to die. The thought incensed her. Did Rhaegar really do this? Could he and Lyanna Stark have been so cruel?

Moreover, if the followers of R'hllor thought Daenerys was this promised prince…had she, too, been born to die?

Another sob rose…and the contents of her half-digested dinner followed. It stunk the frigid air, but her disgust wasn’t great enough to cause her to stop; her muscles took command, demanding that she retch until there was nothing left. It took her to the edge of the bed, where she groped blindly until she found a metal sheet and brought it forth. She was dimly aware of Jon moving to stand on the stone floor. He ran a soothing hand along her back and stopped to catch her hair, as she retched into the bedpan.

“Leave me!” she gasped, mortified. “Jon, please.”

He hushed her. “Daenerys, please do not be ashamed! I’m here. Do not ask me to leave. I’m here.”

He moved the hand on her back faster and focused on the span between her shoulders, trying to coax the tension out of her muscles. Chagrined, she took his other hand, which he squeezed. It was bone dry and warm, a solid comfort she was distantly aware of, and no more.

Jon passed a hand through her hair one last time, pulling her from her haunted musings. She huffed, licked the acidic grit from her teeth, and then pulled herself back up to lay down on her side. When Jon pushed the bedpan aside to kneel on the floor, a realization came. Words are wind, she had thought, for so long, especially the prophecies among them. Yet so much had happened since the maegi tricked her in the Plains of the Lhazarene. Now that she was here beside her lover, pondering all they meant to the greater world, it was so clear to her now. There was something to Ser Barristan’s words that he and I could not have foreseen. Does everything happen the way it must? Some called it fate. Her wheezes were the only sounds as the sickness left her in a slow drip. They eventually slowed to a halt and her breaths returned to normal.

The outlines of Jon’s handsome face came into view, his dark brows pulled and lips pouting with worry as he seemed to search her eyes. She cupped his cheek weakly, and smoothed her thumb along his stubbled jaw. Weary though she was, she would not be able to return to sleep.

Leaning forward to press his lips to her forehead, Jon whispered, “That’s good. You’re alright. It’s alright, now, Dany.”

He swept the hair from her face, stroked her neck, brushed her shoulders then eventually palmed her waist. She shivered, delighting in his much needed closeness. Then he kissed her forehead again. He climbed into bed again and gently drew her into his arms, encouraging her to tilt her head back to rest on his shoulder. He rubbed light, soothing circles on her belly for many long, peaceful moments. She felt like a rock tumbling in the flow of a river’s current—unable to see yet unable to distrust its strength. What was this? Undeserved peace?

When she followed its source, she found herself musing once more.

Many ran to and fro to search for the one who was promised. Somehow, in all the Known World, the two bearing the designation had met and were in this bed, at this Wall. The Lord of Light had called upon Jon to continue his fight and gave him renewed life. Of course, of the stories she’d heard, none who had been given the kiss had been half as worthy as Jon…but perhaps His grace covered all of mankind. For, when asking R'hllor to give them a glimpse of His chosen, the red priests had seen her and him—their deeds and the shadows they cast—in the flames.

What, then? Was He faithful? Had he held her life in His hands the way a hen huddles chicks beneath her wings? Had he watched her all this time, patiently waiting for her to acknowledge Him? Was He as good as His word?

Her soul had quieted some, enough for her to sense an answer…

A whisper upon the wind.

____________________

Jon had sent for the maester. Once he returned, he helped her to finish building a fire in the hearth, with good humor and quips that no queen should ever tend to such a task. Much needed light and warmth filled the air and brought her once more into his arms. In a quiet voice, he suggested they speak as little of Samwell Tarly as possible, for it was likely that he would send word back to the Citadel about him, the novice who had fled with stolen items of knowledge. Though Archmaester Theobold had no proof, he certainly suspected Samwell. Daenerys was certain that the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch would be furious with the ordeal. He did not strike her as one who enjoyed dealing with the unexpected. In some moments, neither did she. Especially today, it would seem.

“Your assessment of Dolorous Edd is correct,” Jon chuckled. “But why should he enjoy it?”

“He seems quite good at it, to have lasted longer at his post than you,” she teased. “We should all enjoy what we are good at.”

“We should. But we don’t.” He did not jest as she thought he might; instead, a frown had taken his features. “Our Sworn Brothers once called him Sam the Slayer. He was training under Maester Aemon as a steward; I sent him to the Citadel to forge a link or three, not to become a stealer. But I suppose Euron Greyjoy’s threat to Oldtown convinced him to return quickly. This matter…it is something the Lord Commander will have to deal with.”

“With your help, I am sure. Those letters of yours must be invaluable to him.”

His frown deepened, brought on by some aggravation unknown to her. Did he still feel guilty for giving counsel on the Night’s Watch operations? Perhaps his discomfort was prudent. He allowed her to part from him with some reluctance. She could feel his gaze upon her back as she moved to the small table near the lone glass window, musing. In Winterfell, Samwell had told her that her great uncle Aemon Targaryen had loved her, that he had wanted to help her, but he died once their party had docked at Braavos. With her chin in hand, tears blurred her view of the dark courtyard far, far below. Would this great uncle of mine have known Rhaegar? Did they somehow discover his prophecy together? Did he approve of his designs on the realm? What even were they? It was still early enough that dawn light was still hours away. At its appearance, their task to march their army of two-thousand men to fortify their designated castles on the Wall, would come too soon.

“My love…I have never seen you so ill! Did last night’s turnip stew somehow disagree with you? I know you prefer simple dishes.”

Jon knew she desired some space. He had moved to the desk on the other side of the room and leaned against it. Despite the brief respite of earlier, her mood had soured with the taste of bile in her mouth. She raised one shoulder in answer. “It was simple enough.”

“Your dream. Do you want to tell me about it?” Growing irritable, she sighed again.“What I said last night, of my mother’s line…it upset you, didn’t it?” She startled at his accuracy, and his voice rose again, now tremulous. “Was it a dragon dream you had?”

“I…” The babe in Rhaegar’s arm flashed before her eyes. Her heart quickened. “I don’t know.”

The silence that followed was just as painful.

“I am so sorry, Daenerys. I will be more careful.”

“No,” she said quickly. “No, Jon. Don’t be sorry for anything. I need you. Don’t hold anything back from me.”

Not again, she thought. Never again.

“Sweet Daenerys, don’t be afraid. You have me. I’m yours.” He tracked slowly toward her. “I just…I cannot hurt you again. I will not do that again. I would rather die.”

The sudden knock at the great door announced the arrival of Buford of House Belmore. Jon reached her, and passed a soothing hand down her back, then casted pained looks at her even once they turned to scour through their chests to make certain their clothing was decent enough for company: Daenerys in an ankle-length undersilk below a wrapped woolen shift which she tied at the waist, Jon in an undertunic and leather breeches. Once their boots were on, she soothed his pain with a kiss on his cheek and enjoyed his small smile. Then he opened the door and allowed the maester of Castle Black to enter. The other man was overly tall and not yet aged, with light brown hair turning gray at his temples, thin locks cut neatly across his forehead and around his large ears. Eight chains formed a rather tight link around his neck and brown rough spun robes, but they did not weigh him down. Carrying his medicines in a hide, he tucked it under his shoulder then bowed to the Dragon Queen and her royal consort, the King in the North. A steward training under the maester came behind him with a contraption that folded out into a table. As the maester rested his hide and rolled it out on the table, the steward asked for the location of the bedpan. Once he had it in hand, he exited the room and closed the door. Maester Buford thanked King Jon for sending for him so quickly, then sat down to work.

It was a stilted conversation—not much was said, for which she was pleased. Daenerys wanted to get through his examination without any more shame than she was already feeling. He felt below her jaws to test her glands, then asked her to open her mouth of which he looked inside with a small candle, finishing with a check to her pulse at the wrists, then testing the tension of her belly. The maester did not know them, so after concluding that all was well initially, he spent the next few minutes choosing an herbal potion for her to drink over the next fortnight. Once the small vial of purple liquid was in her palm and she was chewing a piece of sourleaf to cleanse her mouth, he looked between the young rulers and folded his palms in his lap.

“If I may ask, your grace…when did your moon blood last come?”

She could not answer the question directly. “It comes in fits and starts.” But he merely blinked at her. “My cycle is not regular.”

“Has it always been this way?” When she would not respond, he said, “Forgive me, Queen Daenerys, but I have heard the story of your previous pregnancy, some years ago, in Essos.”

“My son is not here with us, is he?” she snapped. “Forget those stories—I tell you now, he was not viable. That is what the healers said. He could not be carried to term.”

“I…see.” He trembled, as if afraid. “I am truly sorry, Queen Daenerys.”

Jon shifted on his feet, but said nothing. He squeezed Daenerys’s fingers.

“Forgive me, Maester Buford.” She swallowed the remains of the bitter leaf. “Already, it has been a long morning. And the blood of the dragon runs hot. You see, I often wish my son could have come into this world to experience it for himself.”

Jon sucked in a wet breath and snuck a hand into the nape of her hair; something far too intimate for their guest to see.

But his touch was grounding, and preceded a memory that followed on the heels of her shaky gratitude. It was like standing on the shifting grains of Dragonstone’s cold beach. There, many weeks before they had discovered the island’s northern caves, she had shared with Jon the tale of her dragons’ births upon Drogo’s funeral pyre, as the red comet had passed from west to east. His quizzical requests for more details made her overcome with grief, and so with sympathetic lines around his eyes, he had beseeched her. Say anything about your past, and I will not turn away. Tell me everything, and I will not turn away. The salty Autumn air had filled her tongue, as Rhaego’s name lingered among the virulent waves. She could almost see Jon’s stunned features, sense the comforting strength of his arms around her, and catch the scent of his borrowed furs. It was the first time she had cried in front of him.

Now, she covered her hand with his, when it found rest on her shoulder.

“I understand, your grace,” the maester replied. “It is a great shame. But from what I can see, you have done well to carry on, for which we who aim to fight the dead are grateful. Perhaps the Gods will grace you once more.” He passed a glance over to Jon, and then gave her a small smile that almost reached his eyes. For all intents and purposes, the examination of this maester was not as cold as she had feared.

Curiously she asked, “Do you have any gods, Maester Buford?”

“I follow the Old Gods, your grace. Like my father before me, and his father before him.”

“The Vale is your home,” Jon said, speaking for the first time. “Your brother Lord Benedar holds Strongsong…and has stayed in Winterfell to support my sister Sansa for many moons, now.”

“Aye. But I must correct you, King Jon. I have no brothers but those in black.”

Jon paused, and then he chuckled.

The maester continued. “Perhaps Benedar would have left me as castellan instead of our cousin, but I am already a maester, and I am quite comfortable here at Castle Black. It is the lot that life has cast for second sons and such. But you, King Jon, have risen above all odds.”

Daenerys understood why this maester thought such a notion would be appreciated by Jon, but she knew it was another matter he must worry about. She gestured for him to make himself comfortable, but he gently refused and continued standing at her side.

“All odds.” Jon seemed to weigh the words. “I didn’t do it on my own, ser. Neither did I seek it. If any of our—your brothers ask, please relay that message to them.”

A wrinkled brow relayed the question, Why should it matter? But the maester was wise not to speak so insolently. Ponderously, he shifted his hands on the makeshift table. He could sense that he was being dismissed.

“Very well, your grace. Queen Daenerys, you should eat smaller meals with greater frequency, if the sickness returns on the morrow.”

She eyed him warily. Did he, too, think she was with child? Could he sense that she wasn’t yet certain if she wanted to be?

He moved to his feet, then inclined his head to her. “Only if. In any matter, the vial should be consumed once daily for a fortnight, as I have said. It was a pleasure to have your private audience. I look forward to serving you both in this Great War.”

Somehow, Daenerys doubted that. He did not seem as single-minded as Jon and Samwell’s stories of Maester Aemon. If anything, he seemed to be all talk with little bite. Perhaps it was the least one could hope for, to make one a good maester. As she mused with an absent frown, Buford Belmore rolled the hide holding his vials and instruments closed, then bowed to them both. Daenerys thanked him with as much sincerity as she presently could, as fear slowly snaked around her heart.

Once he neared the door, Jon called after him. “Maester Buford, as you are aware, Queen Daenerys and I are not here to take a tour of the Wall. I hope that when our army has finished its task, we will meet with you again, and discuss other matters with Lord Commander Tollett. Until then, I wish you good fortune in the wars to come.”

Though Buford Belmore’s brows rose to his neat fringe, he obeyed at once, bowing again to them. At the opened door, the steward fetched the table, folded it up and then followed him out. Once the door shut, the crackling fire in the hearth resumed its prominence.

“Why did you say that?” Daenerys asked, craning to meet Jon’s eyes.

“He should know that I will be thinking of him. I do not want him to be the cause of Samwell’s downfall. What will we do if the Citadel found it within them to track Sam down and try him?” He shook his head. It was growing light outside; light enough that his black curls looked less like one mass, and revealed their individual beauty. “I am always thinking of you, as well. Do you really think you could be with child, Daenerys?”

Her gaze turned even softer, eyes tracking the hope and fear lining his face. She had once bared her shame to him and watched with tearful awe as it fell into his hands. What would he say now, that he was called to share this burden once more? She pulled him close by the waist, then tilted her head back until he kissed her. Relief loosened her tongue.

“I hope,” she whispered against his mouth. “And yet I do not hope. I do not think I would deserve something so beautiful.”

“Deserve?” He pulled away, with gentle fingers at her chin. “You are the most deserving! You are the most patient, the most kind. You have never tried to stop understanding me.”

“It is easier than you think, Jon Snow.”

“So you say.” Ignoring her evasion, he gave her a tremulous smile. “My brother and sisters say I am a pain. But you…are a rare, unearthly thing.”

She turned her profile toward him, yet he followed on shifting feet; beautifully quiet, always quiet and thinking. She tried to brace for what would come next, but when he spoke softly, as if to avoid spooking her, she was caught away again.

“Daenerys, what do you think Rhaego would have wanted from you? He would have not wanted you to be ashamed. You were tricked into losing him.” A sob came up her throat, just as wet as the one that had preceded her episode. Unperturbed, Jon drew his arms around her. “I know it is hard, and you have been so brave to have come so far. But I believe you will have to become braver, to bring a child into this world.”

“Bravery has nothing to do with it.” She hesitated once the words were out, although she couldn’t quite call it a snap, weary as she was. Jon did not take offense, nor did he judge. In fact, the preserverant brightness in his eyes carried her gently down that river.

“Forgiveness, then. Rhaego would have wanted you to forgive yourself.”

“He…” Daenerys hiccuped.

“He would have wanted you to be happy. Isn’t that so, my love?”

After a beat, she nodded against his chest, for the second time that morning. It was absurd. Despite being so unceasingly vulnerable on the morning of a march, this was too important to dismiss, delay or bury. Jon knew it well. Now, it was he who hesitated.

“I should have told you this long ago. If you would like…he could be as much mine as he is yours. My sweet Daenerys…” He brushed her silver-pale hair behind her shoulders, trailing the fingertips there as he went. He whispered in her ear, stirring her aching heart further up and up. “He should not be mourned alone, nor remembered alone. I can bear this pain with you. Please, let me.”

It was madness. Although there had been the recent loss of her dearest child Viserion, Daenerys had all she wanted. Across Essos, hundreds of thousands, perhaps millions, of people whose chains had been broken; their cries of freedom reached the ears of each and every god, as they worked with each other to keep it so. A place to vie for in the hearts of the men, women and children of Westeros; and in that place was a war to fight and people to bring peace to. In Jon Snow, a friend, family, a lover—and at his side, home. She had leaned on the certainty of these things for so long…had made herself content with them for so long…that the slim possibility of bearing a living child for him—while Mirri Maz Durr’s impossible prophecy echoed in her ears—caused Daenerys to snap shut upon herself like a timid creature in a shell. It was a misguided try at protection. It was not her nature, for she was blood of the dragon. In fact, she knew she was hurting herself, hurting them. But he was wrong. Her cursed womb was still barren, and was not his burden. Nothing had happened to not make it so.

“Jon, what if…what if there is nothing but pain in store for us? Nothing but grief and blood and smoke?”

He surprised her again, and immediately calmed the tempest.

“Then I will ask you now, of myself.” His sudden smile was brilliant. “Who could love a dragon?” Her wide eyes gave answer enough. He understood her, then. Of the two of them, it was hard to say who had doomed their line more. “Daenerys, even if there is only you and me…then every moment with you is one I will cherish.”

“Even now?” she asked quickly, greedy. That too, she would need to hear again.

“Especially now.”

It was a vow. Even if her bout of illness was a fluke, or if she couldn’t bear a living child, or if they failed to ensure Winter gave way to Spring… They could still be happy. At her stunned silence, he squeezed her once more, then gently pulled away, to trail his hands down her waist and land at her hips. Her softly trembling arms came around his shoulders and she felt utterly safe. Through the lone window, dawn light cut across the floor and landed at their feet. Time slipped away more quickly, as they shuffled to their feet. The fullness of their dancing hearts could not be contained, and so they touched foreheads, swaying in the incandescent beam.

“It is something to think on, while we are separated. I will wait for your answer,” he murmured, then smiled again when she kissed his cheek as a prelude, lips lingering on his stubble, hands finding purchase on his arms. “This, you should also know before we march. After we left the outlaws in the Ice Cells yesterday, I spoke with Edd. I am not yet certain our men will be safe with the Watch.”

She swallowed thickly. Indeed, his long-standing discomfort was prudent.

“What is this about, Jon?”

His face grew long and sullen, and he worked his mouth - as if holding back a scream brought on by a haunting specter. Peace, her lover had found, yet rest, he had not.

“Me.”

to be continued

If you’ve read this far, thank you. You don’t have to have read the first fic, A Long Way Home, to give an opinion on the prose. The prose in that fic was more succinct. Now my muse is calling me to meander through Dany’s introspection, since there’s extremely personal stuff going on…on the morning of a military march. I worry that the inner monologues drone on for too long. Thoughts?

#books #asoiaf #asoiaf fanfic #jonerys fanfic #jonerys #daenerys targeryan #jon snow #otp: we could live together #my writing #writing stuff #*#this is a draft #I’d like to edit it a few more times #but I need direction #from fellow jonerys lovers #gimme gimme #your thoughts

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ao3feed-jonmartin · 6 months

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all the shiny things

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/HYMoONI by aelandair In his head, Jon keeps a list of all the things he likes about Daisy’s safehouse. Sometimes, the list is all that’s keeping him sane. Every time something happens that threatens to drive him up the wall, he pulls out his little mental list, and goes through it item by item, and suddenly the bad things don’t seem very bad at all. There’s the scenery, for one. There’s the old-fashioned design of the cottage, sometimes annoying but mostly just charming. And then, of course, there’s Martin. Jon and Martin get settled in Scotland, and settle into their relationship in the process. Words: 20962, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Additional Tags: Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Domestic Fluff, Light Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Statement Hunger (The Magnus Archives), Canon-Typical The Lonely Content (The Magnus Archives), Grief, internalized ableism, body image issues, Body Worship, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Bathing/Washing, Kissing, Canon Asexual Character, Sleeping Together, Combating Trauma via Chopping Wood, Jonathan Sims Butt Appreciator, Romance, really no plot just the softest of vibes read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/HYMoONI

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #tma #jonmartin #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin fanfic

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airbrushfather · 4 months

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@paz-45 asked so here are my 5 ee tattoos lmao (warning for me just rambling absolute shit under the cut)

my first ever tattoo - jon's handwriting and a wild wave because i love violent sun so much. looking back the handwriting tattoo isn't something i'd do today but it's what got me started on getting tats at all and i had a very positive experience (both w getting it and w asking jon for the writing lmao)

the teeth are not related, for the record. writing is about 6 months healed in this pic and almost 18 months healed now. also i know no one asked but since i love talking about tattoos - this is on the outside of my forearm and the pain was about a 3/10. super easy placement if you want somewhere to put a first tattoo that won't kill you off immediately.

classic lil gth hand. i always forget i have this because it's on the back of my arm (hence the bad photo too, say hello to my ear) but i do rlly love it, my artist did a very good job. it's about 5 months healed in this pic and just under 18 months healed now. this is on the back of my upper arm, the pain was probably a 4/10. a little spicy towards the inside but nowhere near the worst, certainly less painful than the inside of the bicep for instance. i also never find colour that bad (lines are worse imo) but i know some people do, so i guess if you came to this post looking for genuine tattoo advice, take that into consideration

these eyes are, technically, ee related - and please excuse this horrible photo, they're really hard to get a pic of! but me and my artist designed them together based on put me together's bridge - 'is it the darkest night/or is that dawn in your eyes?' it's a very important song to me and i love these tattoos, especially the dawn one with all the little details. it actually looks a little better now it's healed, it's settled into itself a lot more. they're super fresh in this pic (less than a month each, i got them within about a week of each other) and about a year healed now

pain wise this is a rough placement. the bottom one especially was one of my most painful tattoos - probably an 8/10. it proved i could never tattoo my actual knee because i genuinely had a terrible time of it. though weirdly the top one was really easy, probably a 6/10

i find this one incredibly hard to photograph bc of the way it wraps but my favourite line from final form (i stole the idea from someone in atb but it's one of my favourite sentiments, as in, this is my first body so i will make mistakes, and it is my last body so i will look after it). i broke one of my only tattoo rules for this too, which was No Words. i doubt i'll get any more words after this bc i don't think they'd really fit very well w the rest of mine, but i thought this was a really nice way to cuff my patchwork arm.

it's about 6 months healed in this video (from today). pain was probably another 8/10, wrist is a very spicy placement but not the worst one by any stretch. the outside (first body) was easier than the inside (last body) and it was definitely tolerable, tbh it was almost more annoying to heal than it was to get

i do have plans for more ee related tattoos (i want to get one from each album, so i have arc and rdf left to conquer) but atm i can't get anything because i have serious trust issies w new tattooists (and i love my artists who i know already) and my shop is currently 200 miles away. i'll probably get one in summertime if i have the money. i really like that for the most part they're not super obvious what they are, even the hand isn't bam in your face this is album artwork unless you're in the know. no hate to those kind of tattoos (ive seen some sick tattoos of the whole gth cover or at least the entire guy) it's just not my kind of thing, i like to be mysterious.

sorry for talking so much, but getting tattoos is my only personality trait. i could and would literally speak about it all day. consider this your formal piece of danny's tattoo advice. none of these are my most painful placements and none were my most painful tattoos, but everybody is different so if you genuinely do want this advice, take it with a grain of salt. and if anyone wants more of my advice/further tattoo tours, feel free to ask (idk why you'd want advice from me but i have probably about 40 tattoos at this point and i want to talk about it. because i'm boring and inufferable. i'm A Tattoo Person. this is my coming out </3)

cheers for looking x

#sorry this is so much talking #i love to yap #i think the tattooing process is a minor special interest for me and it makes me very happy to talk about my own stuff #so i am always happy to answer questions/give advice re placements/healing/etc if people want it #i am rather informed all things considered #that sounded pretentious im so sorry

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dearsnow · 2 years

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SAFE AND SOUND

- something evil is conspiring to kill you, tyrion lannister’s only child, and your father thinks jon snow is the only solution. (jon snow x gn!reader, part of the standstill collection)

word count: 904

STANDSTILL: The arrival of the Lannisters and Baratheons in Winterfell has caused the world to quiet for just a moment- a moment long enough to last lifetimes.

a/n - please please tell me if i mischaracterized jon because i was really stuck between book jon and show jon :( I ended up going for more of a show jon, but it’s my first time writing for him and i would really appreciate any feedback about how i wrote him.

The sound of the carriages rumbling over small rocks on the even ground fades into the background as you look out the window. It really seems like winter has come to the North. The cold wind whips around you bitterly, seeming to seal your fate.

You’re going to die in a place far from home.

The last two assassination attempts left you and your family shaken up. First a drop of poison in your cup, then a hooded figure in the dark of night. You can still feel their rough fingers on your skin when you think about it too hard. Luckily, though, your wine was tasted before it reached your mouth and a guard arrived just in time to save you from your attacker. This trip to Winterfell is supposed to be a joyous occasion, but all you can think of is who wants to kill you and when they will strike next.

It’s hard being the dwarf’s child, but there is no possible reason that could warrant your death. Your aunt Cersei may hate you, and your father even more than you, but she could’ve killed you in your cradle. She could’ve sent someone to push you off the cliff of Casterly Rock when you were small enough to not fight back. She could’ve done anything to assure your death and the sorrow of your parents, but she hadn’t. No, this is someone else. Some shadowy figure that disappears whenever you shine the light of a candle in the corner of your room. Something far more sinister than Cersei Lannister.

Your carriage rumbles to a stop. You can hear your uncle, the king, greeting Ned Stark jovially, and you do the same. You take note of the Starks, eyes scanning their faces for a whisper of evil. You find none.

The greetings and pleasantries are over quickly enough, and before long, you settle into the room designated for you. The crisp air is definitely different. It burns your lungs if you breathe too deeply, but you can think of no better feeling. The cold is a welcome change to sweating in your fancy dresses. A knock at the door startles you from your thoughts.

“My dear, there’s someone I would like you to meet before you blow the candles out.” It’s your father’s voice.

“Of course.” You say, opening the door. You address him quickly before your eyes wander to the figure behind him. His jaw is set firmly and he looks almost like a guard dog.

“This is Jon Snow, Ned Stark’s bastard son. He is to be your guardian for the remainder of our stay at Winterfell, though if he agrees, I would like him to stay with you permanently.” Jon gives you a curt nod. You can feel there’s something Tyrion isn’t telling you, but you’re not going to question him in front of someone else.

“Hello. I’m Y/N.” You smile at him, though your mood is soured by the tension in the hall. Your father clasps his hands.

“He’s one of the greatest fighters I’ve seen. I’m sure you’ll be safe and sound with Jon. Now, I’ll leave you two to talk and make merry. It’s always better to be friends with the man in charge of your life.” He gives you a look, one with an expression you can’t quite place before he briskly walks away.

There’s a moment of silence between you and the man in front of you. He stares at you with what you can only think is mixed feelings, before stating, “I’m supposed to be going to the Wall in a few days. They need me. But it seems you need me as well.” He doesn’t exactly look happy about it, and you understand. The Starks have family at the Wall and it must be an honor for him to go there himself.

You wince. His tone is serious, but you can tell his frustration is mostly aimed at the situation. “It wasn’t my choice. I would let you go if I had the power. In any case, I’m not going to be in Winterfell forever. I’ll ask my father to set you free before I leave.” You almost tease. A hint of something gentle takes hold of his features before he brushes it off.

“I’d be grateful. While I’m here, though, I swear to keep you ‘safe and sound’. By the old gods and the new.”

“Despite how much you dislike it?” You do tease him this time. You can’t help but think that behind his stoic demeanor, there’s a kind soul just waiting for something to bring it out.

“I suppose so. I trust there’s something after you that someone else can’t handle, so I’ll be your sword and shield.” He responds, expression just as stony as it was before.

“Well, I’ll take your word for it. Good night, Jon Snow.”

You smile at him once more before closing the door. You feel almost giddy at your interactions. Something about him is just so intriguing- you find yourself hoping that you’ll get to know him just a little bit better during your trip. Maybe you’ll find something buried in those black eyes of his.

This moment in time has many more things in store for you and the bastard boy. More things than could possibly fit during the duration of your trip. Time does, of course, work in mysterious ways.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

#standstill ; jon snow ❄️#solar eclipse.#jon snow x reader #jon snow #jon snow headcanons #jon snow fanfic #jon snow imagine #game of thrones #game of thrones fluff #got x reader #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones fic

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