#not that everyone is being nice or fair to jon; not at all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mecachrome · 4 months

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extremely 👀👀 about this kind/nice spectrum u brought up and how alex oscar lando and anyone else on the grid are placed on the grid..... would love to know more.........

hi there!!! :D omg yes i would love to talk more about this, though of course disclaimer that these are my Personal Interpretations and i love to spout nonsense on the internet LOL. i'll just expand on oscar + lando + alex some more since frankly i don't know all the other driver lore Like That and i don't want to overstep in my analysis! also i'm deathly afraid of chirlies. ok let's move on

to start off... i think the way we talk about celebrity personas obviously requires some generalization + projection since we can only extrapolate what is already being consciously disseminated, and so although i frequently talk about the kind/nice dichotomy or someone's capacity for sympathy vs. empathy (which is kind of a parallel assessment imo) we are of course all complex people who contain multitudes, and i think it's mostly just interesting to examine strictly in the context of racing & racing mentality... if that makes sense!

also wrt landoscar's personalities → one thing i feel very, VERY strongly about despite their differing surface-level interests and social profiles (read: different flavors of off-track sports, both of them being gamers but to diverging levels of visibility, lando's higher degrees of hyperfixation, etc.) is that at their baseline they are extremely similar people, and honestly even very similar drivers and racing "characters," which ultimately kind of colors most of my analysis. if we peel back the layers then oscar and lando are both functional introverts who've been very well-nurtured by similarly robust, persisting, and loyal support systems—oscar spending 99% of his time off-track with his longtime gf, lando's best mates all being from his karting days, their dads being equally objective about yet also supportive of their careers, jon having trained lando since he was like 5 feet tall, etc.—so to me the overarching difference is that they have diametric approaches to how they externalize their convictions, and then obviously since that's what we see/hear day in & day out it generates the existing rift between their media images. per lando on btg:

"Oscar is extremely down to earth. A bit like me, just a very normal guy who's in Formula 1, just a guy that loves to drive cars and compete against people, and that's it."

(incoming egregious amounts of lando psychoanalysis...) despite oscar being the only driver i truly rep, i've always found lando's psyche soooo fascinating because he invites such extreme emotion in people (be it positive or negative), and i think part of it does go back to the idea of being nice vs. kind and ultimately the lens through which his intentions are interpreted by other people. in real-people fandom this is always interesting since it ends up becoming an unconscious exercise in how we perceive "sincerity" in others, even though the underlying paradoxical truth is obviously that any such assessment must always be dispersed and consolidated via a parasocial system (and thus everything is held relative to our own individual value systems... This is totally not the point of the ask. SORRY FOR THE MILLION TANGENTS) anyway as an extremely disillusioned sports fan i actually have a lot of time for lando despite how much visceral judgment he generates in quite a few people, which is totally fair since everyone is fully privy to feeling however they want to feel about any celebrity and i am not here to convince them otherwise lol. but that's just me!

i think to me the thing about lando is that there is almost zero pretense to his character, which some dislike because they find his bluntness off-putting, but imo just means his intentions are generally straightforward and easily digestible. sure, he lacks the spoken filter to not come off as occasionally callous, but at the end of the day i genuinely believe that he's an inherently thoughtful (and "kind") person, especially within the insular system of professional motorsport and the many mental pitfalls that accompany it. a symptom of this is how willing he is to resist more gracious media responses and how very inwardly critical he can be in specifically self-motivating ways, the latter of which sometimes gets misinterpreted due to the rigid yet overwhelmingly popular framework of what constitutes a competitive racing mentality. but like... to Me, lando is just entirely what you see is what you get, bad parts included, and he has zero intention of making excuses for that or pretending to be anything otherwise. which i enjoy!

and which again also goes back to the idea of niceness. (honestly the tl;dr for most of lando's pr scandals is just Oh okay so it's illegal to be neurodivergent now? but i'm trying to be normal so let me not just say that.) a good example is the entire debacle of saying he felt no sympathy for daniel at mclaren in 2022, because i think it elucidates a sort of kindness in objectivity that he very plainly participates in—to lando, being a top-performing athlete means never searching for excuses to soften the brunt of one's failures, himself included, and equally that there is no point playing sorry in front of journalists or trying to reshape their narrative scrutiny since at the highest level of competition any bold-faced externalization of "sympathy" is really just pity. and what point is there in telling someone else that you Feel Bad for their skill issue/struggles when the moment you extend that sentiment you essentially debase their position as a direct competitor and therefore disrespect them even more?

"I want to be the best in the world, I want to prove myself to people. But I've never had the mentality or the confidence to say that or feel like I need to do anything more than normal to show it to people. Do I have to do anything to go over the top and show that to prove it? I don't think so. People say you've got to be brutal and you've got to have this certain mentality. But I just don't think it's true at all. I think you’ve just got to get in the car and do the best you can."

i think the Separation of Church (treating everyone exactly as they are on-track, just another car to size up or keep at bay) and State (being friendly, supportive, and altogether well-regarded by other drivers off-track) is a primary tenet of lando's personality, and it's something he achieves by valuing kindness over niceness. you know the lando/maxf quadrant interview where lando is like: i'm not friends with you because of your achievements in life... i just care about your personality! and he's mainly saying it to take the piss out of him but he also 100% does mean that shit. that's the crasyinsane part about lando to me... god i'm so sorry i need to not go on for a million years but PERSONALLY, i think lando is very much the type of person who can go through an experience, or otherwise see someone close to him go through an experience, and approach it very empathetically to the point he continues carrying on this internal conviction about it even when he's survived or grown past it. like even as someone who mostly believes in Death to Relatable Marketing, i find it really interesting when lando talks about mental health in sports because we get to see both a) the fact that he's grown so much in his own mental resilience from his rookie self in 2019 to who he is now, but also b) that he continues to believe strongly in rejecting the presumed archetype of a successful formula 1 driver, and is steadfast in surfacing that even though... honestly? lando nowadays is a very consistent, well-rounded, and efficient talent who frankly doesn't experience nearly as much of the unproductive mentally-spiraling self-criticism that used to impact his performances to a far more pronounced degree when he was younger and rough around the edges. yet he still feels compelled to affirm that there is No One way to be an athlete (which is significant because "mentality" is such a harped-on concept in all sports, and everyone is always trying unfailingly to extrapolate performance-related projections via vague and completely subjective intangibles to a notably unempirical degree!!) because he does care, deeply, about how people enter and succeed in motorsport. honestly i always feel kind of iffy bringing up commentary re: Women In Motorsport because it often sounds unnecessarily adulatory, but at least in recent times i think he's also shown a decent amount of grace when talking about female fans, girls in karting, that one time he was like Bruh who are you? @ that misogynistic reporter, which...... i'm not going to say majorly influences my opinion of him, but imo being willing to quickly shut someone down like that is an anti-niceness to a productive end that i appreciate, since i think many personalities would kind of just smile bemusedly and try to quickly move on in the conversation.

tl;dr lando thinks feeling bad for people is useless and will never give you that one tidy sympathetic soundbite, but he does care for people vividly, especially off-track, which to him is the only place kindness really matters anyway. when you look at maxf (and i know this is mainly a portrait of codependency unique to their friendship but i do think it reflects his love languages in general) whose career cratered because he mentally couldn't handle the pressure, lando's response was literally to unfailingly engage in failcore househusband chores for him like leaving handwritten notes in his 3rd grade girl handwriting and ironing his clothes on stream........ which... i could go on forever but again. separation of church and state!!!

anyway with oscar on the other hand, i honestly think most things in his life kind of just exist as a function of motorsport LOL. and that he likes surrounding himself with people of similar interests/intellectual level/skillsets, down to his partner studying engineering and wanting to work in the same industry as him....... again, i think 814's baseline characters are Very similar and that they're both great team players with complementary professional approaches, so this is not a knock on either of their personalities, but imo lando is just generally more outwardly sentimental and has also had to do a lot of conscious growing up in the past ~4 years to become more well-rounded wrt off-track interests, whereas oscar basically came onto the grid as this already fully-realized product with far fewer dependencies who is just nonchalantly like, I see my family 3 weeks a year and my sisters just think i'm their lame older brother and don't care about my career at all, but i'm fine with that and i'd make all the same sacrifices i've made over and over again to get where i am!!! also re: oscar's abject lack of interest in engaging with fans one-on-one, an easy example is how lando genuinely values/treasures the friendship bracelets he gets and wears them consistently whereas oscar is just like. Erm. i respect it but that is not for me ✋😭 he's nice about fan things because he understands how much fan support and consumerist interest enable the circus that is formula 1 but he doesn't really value any of it much past the surface-level pleasantries......

why is this answer so long............... idk if you want to hear anything more about alex but i think he's very similar to oscar in terms of this measured external niceness/quiet ruthlessness, especially wrt how they weather team politics, interact with media (noted red bull marketing hater alex albon), and tend to simply Do The Thing To Do The Thing. alex is especially interesting because if you watch his high performance pod it reveals sooooo much of his growth over the years and his current mental framework ("i was having to be selfless, and it didn't really agree with me that much") and frankly even just the way he speaks about himself is fascinating to me but i digress!!! i do think much of lando's tactless impulse yet also apparent kindness comes from his considerably privileged background and the fact that he was shown a lot of Realistic But Also Unconditional Support and thus never had his career actively threatened growing up. so even though he's had to learn to not mentally catastrophize at the f1 level, he didn't undergo the reckoning alex did with his mother/losing rb's team backing/etc., which alex mentions in this podcast as specifically triggering his insatiable desperation to prove himself.......... and so on. alex and oscar to me are both quite similar in how they let more combative thoughts simmer and are very well-trained in responding palatably to the media, but they're also going to resist relating themselves too much to other people's struggles because That Is Not Their Problem, and at the end of the day oscar is uh.... sure he has a lot of appreciation for mclaren and has called prema a family before, but he really only wants to win for himself and is less inclined than lando is to romanticize the spirit of the Team. and so when he says things like "for me, there’s just not any point, especially in self-deprecation, destroying yourself in front of the media," it's a Niceness because his assessments are always entirely self-absorbed in the most productive of senses, as in he truly only cares about what he himself is doing and is never going to waste time worrying about or comparing himself to his competitors' mental approaches!

does any of this make sense. please excuse the monstrous rambling 😭 but also please feel free to follow up with your own takes/lore about any driver if you'd like to, or to tell me that i'm absolutely wrong if you'd like, because i always love to hear about these things!!! :3c

#ask #i did not mean to psychoanalyze lando like That i'm so sorry...

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rocksanddeadflowers · 6 months

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Doorkeay in your au doorkeay in your au doorkeay

The doorkeay <3 !!!

Gerry is a witch, and a fisherman. See, lots of place have societal norms of seeing magic users as unsettling and taboo, and occasionally towns make it illegal. So while witchcraft comes rather natural to him, and he still secretly does it for work (people still run to magic for aid plenty, even people who swear against it you know) he needs a more... 'respectable' job. One he enjoys/is good at. Wouldn't you know it he lives on the seaside and his father is also a fisherman! Boom! Problem solved! (He really does enjoy his work, even if it's strenuous and dangerous. It's just nice being out at sea any chance he gets.)

One time a storm caught him off guard, and he was knocked overboard. He woke up soaked to the bone on the deck of his porch, boat back in it's port. Writes it off, figures out he's already developing phenomena (it's fine he has the perfect spells to clear that up within a week or two) and focuses on taking time off to recover.

Wouldn't you know it, the next morning all the fish he caught and thought he lost appeared on his deck. Very weird.

The culprit? Ah, turns out to be a giant merfolk. Great to know those exist! Big friendly sharp (like, physically sharp) fellow.

So yeah Gerry is in his pajamas and has sick brain fog, turns around and sees giant mer-Micheal staring at him from the sea (concerningly close to his house) with absolutely glee. Scares the shit out of Gerry, but after trial and error communication, he figures Micheal is friendly.

Michael can't communicate verbally (well, he can in a merfolk sorta fish echo thing, but humans can't understand it nor can it be heard on land anyway) but he does have fairly human hands and an decent auditory understanding of what Gerry says. So over the course of Gerry's two week sick leave he teaches Micheal and himself sign language to better communicate, all the while slowly remembering through dreams and flashes that Micheal was the one to save him from drowning and take him home!

They become close friends pretty quick, Micheal checking in almost daily to see his human friend and give weird little gifts that Gerry cherishes dearly, and keeping up to date with the sign language lessons.

When Gerry is well enough to go fishing again, Micheal nervously stays close. It's a bit concerning, in a way, to have a great creature of the deep nearly surfacing next to your tiny fishing boat constantly. But in a way, it's not much scarier than the whales he's seen, and he trusts Michael now.

At some point, Gerry would actually jump into the water with Micheal, who is insanely shocked Gerry would willingly get in the water with him. Gerry definitely also puts his hands on Micheal's face and it's just very sweet and fluffy.

Also way down the road, I like to picture the whole main cast of the AU (dragon riders, including Jon, and doorkeay) all going to a little fair or something, a celebration at a local town. So everyone can dress up pretty and dance and have fun, but also specifically so Gerry can dig around his old spellbooks for something insanely hard to do.

Micheal loves his home at sea, but he still occasionally laments the idea of exploring the land, especially now that he's befriended Gerry. So obviously the solution is to find a spell that can temporarily shift Micheal into a human form. After loads of hardwork he actually manages to do it too! They all get to go to the dances together and Micheal gets to run around experiencing all the human stuff.

#the magnus archives #tma #doorkeay #fantasy au #them <3 #i care them lots <3

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eerie-night · 4 months

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i always like stumbling across fic rec lists so i thought about compiling a list of some of my favorites and linking the tumblrs of the authors (but if i cant find them ill link twitter or ao3) bc theyre all fucking awesome

BSD

and all i loved, i loved alone- @featherxs

“An ability?”

— on the past, present, and future of one Edgar Allan Poe.

SOOOO GOOD!! its what originally got me so into bsd and its such a good reread too

(don’t) stop the rain- miniekooki

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke finds himself taking care of the Twain family after an unfortunate turn of events.

And he also finds himself considering Mark Twain as more than just an annoying prick.

(ALTERNATIVE TITLE: the domestication of akutagawa ryuunosuke)

i loveeeeeeeeee this and how it goes about describing the family its sooooooooo good

Haikyuu

as bright as a blackhole; and twice as dense- cereal_whore

“Kageyama’s being bullied,” Yamaguchi grits, expression steeled.

Tsukishima lowers his book quietly, and stares, eyes wide.

“As if he has enough social competence to realise he’s being bullied.”

“Tsukki, please.”

Meant to be 5 times Tsukishima accidentally and very reluctantly saved Kageyama from his own social ineptness, and one time Kageyama does the same for him, but we ran into problems bc OP can't count.

(or: everyone is srsly stressed over kageyamas existence, but kageyama, despite having the common sense of a Five Minute Crafts video, is like those buff himbos within the tsundere category. so he somehow ends up wholly unscathed throughout this shit, while everyone else doesnt)

tldr: kageyama lacks forethought, and everyone but him suffers the consequences of it.

i eat this shit up omg omg its great its funny and it makes my day better read it

but not for spring to well up- tookumade

Miya Brothers

Sellers & Buyers of Antiques & Curiosities

Suna Rintarou squints at the small sign attached to the front door of the brick shopfront.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Something flashier? More brass? The Miya brothers could do with a pot plant out the front. The shopfront has one single large window that’s covered by a plain white curtain, so maybe they could open that up and have some of their antiques and such on display so people get an idea of what they buy and sell. Maybe a paint job for the door, which is the most boring brown Suna has ever seen. There is nothing he can say about it—it’s not nice nor ugly, it’s just boring.

Or, maybe Suna could stop giving any more of a damn about this shopfront and just get his appointment over and done with.

After ending a relationship with a fiancé, Suna returns home and tries to heal from heartbreak. Here, he finds friends in the form of the Miya brothers, and learns patience, forgiveness, and what happiness means to him.

this sounds repetitive but…..SOOOOOOOO GOOOOOD i love the emotion and how it deals with sunas ex and like everything about this fic is gold

JJK

“To Chase”- @diggingupgrave

Megumi has never thanked the man who raised him.

god…no words except read it you will not regret it

FE3H

A Fair Day’s Work- featherhearted

“I may have some coffee in the place for you,” said Prime Minister Aegir. “Let me show you how much better I have become at brewing it to your taste.”

“If you insist,” said Minister Vestra but he sounded pleased. To Delarivier, who had literally made it her profession to attune herself to his tone (usually ranging from sort-of-murder-y to extremely-murder-y), Minister Vestra sounded very pleased indeed.

Ferdinand and Hubert's long-suffering aides figure out a way to work fewer hours.

im a whore for outsider povs and this one takes the cake and does laps around my brain when i try and sleep

TMA

a glass essay- fairbanks

Right out of university Jon's run out of time to run from the Web. The only way he knows to escape one domain is to give yourself to another, and he's always been good at being alone.

He really wasn't imagining the Lukas family would take him in at all, let alone arrange him to marry some smarmy ass named Peter Lukas.

yet again something to reread till you memorize every word and still cant get enough

now for authors that i recommend HIGHLY and a fic or two from them:

@blackkatmagic

i recommend everything shes written but my top favorites currently are:

Cor Cordium

Fox dies. He wakes up. And then things start getting weird.

its so so good and kats soooo good at characterization and descriptions and could prob make paint drying interesting

out of night (out of nothing)

It's the duty of the Temple Guard to keep the Sacred Spire, the Force nexus at the heart of the Temple. Feemor's always done his duty gladly, kept it safe, kept the light burning. Order 66 changes everything. Changes him. Changes the Spire, too.

Hevy, Cutup, and Droidbait are just caught in the currents and trying to make the most of their second chances, but an unstable Jedi and new powers don't make anything easier.

the concept is so cool and the execution is even better she could probably sell me air and id go crazy for it

trade your heart for bones to know

A week after an attack that nearly killed him and his son, Jaster Mereel finds Mostross dead on a battlefield. His killer is a Jedi, grievously wounded, who Jaster takes into his care. By Mandalorian tradition, Jon Antilles owes him a life-debt, and Jaster is cunning enough not to let such a thing slip away.

It's meant to be an entirely political arrangement. It doesn't stay that way for long.

not to sound like broken record but god this is fucking fabulous

i totally recommend checking out ALL her works but these were the first ones i thought of out of the ones that are currently updating

@x-authorship-x

she has written sooo many good fics im just going to recommend my favorite series and you can go from there

Eyes

Shisui is way too strong to have his eye taken by Danzo

He's the only one smart enough to master the simplest of techniques to legendary proportions

He was sweet and kind and, despite everything he'd seen and all the things he'd done, he wasn't afraid to hope. To dream for something better.

A series for Shisui

the characters, the plots, the descriptions all add up to something amazing

llamallamaduck

do yourself a favor and check her out, you will not regret it. unfortunately, i will restrain myself to only recommending one fic but DO check the rest out

With no root in the land —(To keep my branches green)

He is not a human and he is not a beast and he is not a creature, but he is. He is a being, then. A being that changes and learns and lives. He thinks his name is Ani.

this is the fic that i first read by llamallamaduck and its a really good introduction to how fucking amazing she is at doing crossovers and writing in general

i hope you enjoy these as much as i have :)

#fic rec #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd ranpoe #haikyuu #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #fire emblem #fe3h fic rec #fe3h #tma #the magnus archives #star wars #naruto #shisui uchiha

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fandomregression · 7 months

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Can you do headcanons for little Martin Blackwood?

Age Regressor Martin Blackwood Headcanons!

martin is Baby

he is Tiney

such a tiny baby and everyone loves him

martin learns that he regresses when hes still a teenager, but he keeps that secret all the way to his time in the archives. he knows when hes about to slip, and he finds a way to excuse himself and go be alone

he hates being alone, and he wants someone to take care of him, but he can't dare ask someone to do that. it just isn't fair! martin's always the one to take care of others, so they shouldn't have to worry about him!! but he needs the love and affection so badly...

sasha and tim already take care of jon, so it doesn't take them very long to figure out Something Tiney is happening with martin. he chews constantly, be it pens or his fingers or his shirt collar, doesn't matter. he goes quiet for long stretches of time. he gets this far away look in his eyes, and this sweet look about him when he does, but he always snaps out of it and looks surprised when he does

sasha and tim start experimenting, just to see if their suspicions are correct. they'll get his tea for him, they'll give him praise on his notes, they'll play disney songs on the stereo, and a few times tim even got him some stickers just to see what he'd do

(martin covered his desk in stickers)

after a while, sasha and tim are positive that they've got another regressor on their hands. they ask him about it, and at first martin denies it like crazy. but he does give in and explain yes, he regresses, but they super don't need to worry about him!! hes okay on his own!!!

they invite him over to hang out one evening (after explaining to jon, who is now a bit pouty and grumpy that his cgs are gonna make him share. the horror) and the four of them have dinner, hang out and watch tv, until martin gets sleepy

the thing with martin is when he gets sleepy, he starts feeling tiny. so he gets shy, and he tries to make himself as small as possible in the corner of the sofa. sasha notices, and she coaxes him out of the corner for cuddles. this squarely lands him in the 'fully regressed' category, and martin ends up with his thumb in his mouth, rubbing his eyes, and sleepily watching cartoons

it takes several times for martin to start really getting comfy with the idea of regressing with others, but once hes comfy he becomes the most spoiled baby

martin already has toys and things that he likes, like a taggy blankie, a crinkle book, a rattle, and a rubber chewy giraffe. he also has a stuffed highland cow named brownie who he HAS to have in order to sleep (brownie goes everywhere with him!!) and he has a plain cream colored paci

with tim and sasha, martin learns all the cutest things that make him feel even littler than anything he could do alone. tim holds his hand up and down stairs, across the street, or in stores so he doesnt get lost (he does this with jon too). sasha plays games like patty cake and peekaboo, and she reads lots of stories with him

martin is a fussy eater when hes small. when hes big, he'll eat just about anything, and he'll try anything once if it smells nice. but when hes small, food can be overwhelming, so he really likes simple things. lots of buttered noodles, plain chicken nuggets, and apple sauce pouches. apple sauce pouches are a life saver, really, he loves them so much

he also really likes getting bottles, and he likes when one of his cgs gives him his bottle. it makes him feel positively tiny, and it makes him feel very very safe and loved (esp warm vanilla milk!)

since he tends to lose his words, martin knows some baby sign language. it helps make sure his needs are being met, and the praise his cgs give him for asking for things makes him so happy

he doesnt like loud noises, so storms and things scare him very badly. he'll hide under covers until tim comes to rescue him

tim is dada, and sasha is mama (of course)

when hes big enough, martin likes to help them however he can. he'll dust the furniture, sweep the floors, or mix batter for baking to feel helpful. sasha and tim will praise him for a job well done, and he gets rewards like milkshakes or a new toy

loves loves loves warm baths. he loves bath bombs more than bubbles, especially pretty glittery ones with swirly colors. he has bath crayons and duckies and a little boat, and bath time is just so relaxing for him

charlie and lola >>>>>

he doesnt like high energy shows or movies, he likes nice and calm cartoons

i feel like he collects sylvanian families. and he has a playhouse for them. he takes such good care of them and has never lost a piece for any of them

this boy has an Aesthetic, and if he could ever figure out how to make sure he could surround himself in only his aesthetic, he would be the happiest baby on the planet

i've been reading lotsa lil martin recently so hes on my mIND thank u for this ask sgksgmafjagn hope u enjoy 🤲

#fandom agere #age regression #sfw agere #🧸headcanons #tma agere #agere martin

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cellsshapedlikestars · 10 months

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Seeing all your cool home updates && half-watching some HGTV w/my mom while drawing had a simple prompt idea if you might be interested! Basically HGTV reno show Jonsa - Sansa is a designer and finally gets a chance for her own show but loses Rob (her #1 contractor) to an injury before filming starts && Jon jumps in (either to help Rob /or/ the studio execs (maybe Targs?) throw him in) and the two have to work together somehow. Idk idk, just wanted to share! <3

ANON.

No, you have no idea, I already HAVE a house reno wip. It's not super long, but... yeah. I've got that.

Here, I'll post what I have written of it, since we CAN'T GET ONTO AO3.

this isn't exactly your prompt, though I do honestly love yours a lot and sort of want to change mine. If I changed mine, the show Sansa works on would definitely be like Rehab Addict, where she restores old homes to their prior state instead of making them "modern"

But mine is sort of similar? This snippet is just the set up and doesn't include the part where Sansa decides to start a youtube channel for her renovations, (a la WabiSabE, which I used to watch and was probably the inspiration for this fic when I first started writing it like a year ago lol), and everyone starts shipping her with her contractor Jon, who she keeps forcing to be in the videos because she can't really make them without him being in it...

Sansa winces as her car hits another bump and jolts her in her seat.

“You owe me,” she huffs out, hands tight around the wheel.

“I know, I know,” Robb's voice comes through her sound system and fills the car. He's distracted, she can tell, and she bites back a snippy comment. Robb's just so busy, he couldn't possibly get away.

That's not fair, the small part of her brain that's still being rational thinks. Of course Robb couldn't drop everything and come out to the middle of nowhere to deal with their Great Uncle Brynden's estate. Robb's got a new baby and his job.

Robb's got a baby, Arya's got her tournaments, Bran has school, and Rickon's still underage. All of her siblings have lives they can't get away from. All except her.

No significant other, no kids. A tenuous career that she can technically do from anywhere.

“Oh no,” she breathes, when the house finally comes into sight through the trees.

“What's wrong?” Robb asks, his full attention back on her.

“Robb,” she whines, the car coming to a pathetic, rolling stop on the overgrown gravel drive. “It's a mess.”

“A mess?”

She doesn't answer, too busy staring at the mansion in front of her. Or, what used to be a mansion, she thinks.

It's still vaguely house-shaped, but... The roof is missing shingles in multiple places, the windows all seem busted out. The steps up to the covered front porch are fine, but the porch itself has a massive sinkhole, and half the wood looks rotted and ready to crumble.

Gods, if this is what the outside looks like...

“What kind of a mess?” Robb asks. She's just about to start listing the many problems when she hears another car approaching.

“I've gotta go,” she tells Robb. “I think the lawyer's here.” She hangs up before Robb can answer, and watches the other car slowly emerge through the trees up the bumpy road, past the broken gates, and onto the circular gravel drive. It stops behind her and a man gets out. She gets out, too, phone clutched in her hand, just in case.

“Miss Stark?” the man asks, and his face splits into a kind smile when she nods. “Perfect, perfect. I'm Samwell Tarly. It's nice to finally meet you.”

Sansa moves forward to shake the lawyer's hand. He isn't what she was expecting. He's young, for one – maybe only a few years older than her. And he seems just as nice in person as he'd been over the phone. She didn't think lawyers came in nice.

“We should have met at your office,” she says, eyeing up the weeds sprouting from between the gravel and brushing against her ankles. “I didn't realize the road here would be so...”

Mr. Tarly laughs. “This place has been abandoned for quite some time,” he agrees. “I never met Brynden myself, but I’d heard about him. Apparently he decided to up and travel the world and left this…”

Sansa looks back at the crumbling mansion and feels her face scrunch up. She tries to smooth it out. “So, how fast do you think I can sell this?” she asks.

That’s when Mr. Tarly’s smile falters. “Well,” he starts, hesitant, “you see, it’s in such a poor state, I can’t imagine anyone would be willing to buy it.”

“But the land must be worth something? They can just knock it down and-”

“Ah,” Mr. Tarly winces, and Sansa’s sentence breaks off, unfinished. “I suppose you didn’t read all the fine print?” At the slow shake of her head, he grimaces. “Riverrun Manor is a historic property. You, legally, are not allowed to tear the structure down. Anything you do needs to go through lots of committee approvals…”

“So what you’re saying,” Sansa says, closing her eyes as reality crashes down around her, “is that literally no one is going to want to buy this.”

“Maybe if you find someone who’s both very rich, and very interested in Riverlands history?”

She opens her eyes and there must be a glare on her face, because Mr. Tarly winces again.

Then she turns back to the manor, and really looks at it this time. Beneath the grime and the moss and the crumbling wood, she can see what it used to be.

“What if I fixed it up a bit?” she asks, turning back to the lawyer. “What if I just did the major repairs, do you think someone would buy it then?”

She doesn’t want to do that, but it beats letting the property sit around even longer and paying the taxes on it. Or, worse, not paying the taxes and having that on her and her sibling’s financial records.

“I’m not a real estate agent,” Mr. Tarly responds, looking at the building thoughtfully. “But this is a good location, lots of historic stuff around. I wouldn’t doubt you could sell it if the building weren’t… well, that.” He waves his hand towards the manor.

“Alright,” she nods. “Maybe we should head to your office to do the paperwork, though? Then I’ll… I guess I’ll look for a contractor?”

Sam nods, and a bright smile lights his face again. “Oh, I know someone you can call!”

#cellsshapedlikeasks #jonsa #jonsa fic #ao3 come back

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thethreeeyed-raven · 1 year

Text

a love which cannot be

navigation | warnings : slight suggestiveness, time skips, jealous bran, father being arsehole, robb seems like an ass, cringey description of bran lmao, i just fucking love brans nose oml, lmk if there’s more | a/n : sorry if you guys don’t like it i just get ideas all of the time lmao, will be writing a part two :) | tags : @knight-of-flowerss | bran stark playlist

The journey to Winterfell was long and excruciating. The land you came from was nothing like Winterfell. Yours was filled with exotic animals, it rained nearly almost everyday, and the heat was so hot you could melt.

Maybe Winterfell would be a nice change, perhaps this Robb Stark man would be a good husband to you, and not beat you or be disloyal as you knew some women's husbands to be.

Your father wanted you to marry the heir to Winterfell, thinking it would strengthen your connections with the Starks.

Robb was seven years older than you. You only being 14 and him 21.

"Father, are we nearly there yet?" You asked nervously. In truth, you did not want to marry this Robb Stark, you wanted to marry someone of your own age, someone of your own choosing.

"Yes, nearly. Just another day." Your father answered in a coarse voice.

You had finally arrived in Winterfell. The Starks were all lined up. There was one that stood out from them all. You assumed he was the bastard, Jon Snow. He looked nothing like Lady Stark. He had dark brown curls, almost black and his eyes were the exact same too. He looked like he tried hard to earn a place beside his half-siblings.

Your father and Ned Stark gave a curt nod to each other, they weren't as close as Ned and King Robert.

"Lord Y/L/N." Ned started, your father replying with "Lord Stark."

As they conversated, you eyed the Stark children. The one you were betrothed to, Robb Stark, had brown curly hair and tried to look like he had authority. Then there was Sansa, with fiery red hair, icy blue eyes and a kind smile graced her soft pink lips. There was Arya, her hair was wild and her clothes were all over the place. Rickon was the youngest, with golden hair and eyes that twinned Sansa's. Lastly, your eyes travelled to...wait...that was Bran Stark?!

Seven hells, he's gorgeous...

His hair was a fair shade of brown, adorned with light curls. His eyes were dark chocolate, you could stare into forever, perhaps you could find the universe in them if you gazed long enough. His lips were a cherry red, and his cheeks sprinkled with light freckles.

Oh gods, his nose is so big...

"Y/n." Your father had been calling your name for the past five minutes. "Come and say hello."

Bran had noticed your intense gaping at him, so he gave you a good observation too. A light blush appeared across his cheeks when he realised everyone had caught you both, so he ducked his head down, but his eyes never left your figure.

The Starks of Winterfell held a feast for you and your families arrival.

The air in the room was getting too stuffy, so you left your seat next to your mother and went outside.

You walked farther away and found yourself in the training grounds, finding Jon teaching Bran a few things about swords.

"You have to hold it like this with a tight grip but not too tight-"

"Why aren't you inside with everyone else?"

They both shot round not expecting you to be there.

Bran gulped, looking at Jon, then diverting his eyes to the ground.

"Why aren't you mi'lady/mi'lord?" Jon knew Bran wouldn't speak to you until after he got over the shock of your existence.

"I don't like it in there." It felt a little bit difficult trying to make conversation with them as they were awkward people. "Also it's a little bit boring, sick of hearing about marriages."

Bran let out a little huff of amusement, he had grown jealous over Robb.

You had been staying in Winterfell and your relationship with the Stark children had grown.

You and Robb were still very distant with each other, both of you always doing your own thing. You were fine with it, as you were closer to the other other Stark boys, especially one in particular.

"Bran, stop."

Both of you were sat under a tree, eating fruit you had both picked. He had forbidden himself from climbing ever since he fell out of that tower and fell into a coma for a few months.

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're trying to hold my hand." You could feel his little finger brushing against your own on top of the fur you were sat on.

You watched as he jutted his bottom lip out of annoyance, he really, really wanted to hold your hand but didn't know how to ask.

Sighing, you took his hand into yours, relishing in the warmth it provided you.

Bran rested his head against your shoulder, his breath tickling your ear. "I wish I could hold your hand all the time."

It was like time stopped. Everything was perfect, you and bran together, but then you had realised that you hadn't been trying to stop your betrothal to Robb at all, you had Bran right beside you and you weren't snatching him up like you could've done.

"I'm going to meet you in your room tonight."

"Bran, Bran open the door." It was the middle of the night, and you kept your word, making your way to his room once you knew everyone was asleep.

You heard the handle rattle and the door opened to reveal a very tired Bran who was barely awake.

"Y/n?" He was very much awake now once he realised you were still in your night clothes. "Come on it must be freezing out there." Bran grabbed your wrist and dragged you inside, some of the candles and the fire was still lit. Was he waiting for you?

"I didn't think you'd actually come, you did take a long time." He averted his eyes, too overwhelmed to look into yours.

"I had to wait 'till midnight, my parents notice everything." You licked your lips before continuing. "My mother specially, she has noticed that we have been spending lots of time together."

Gods, please say our time doesn't have to end, Bran thought.

"My mother will mention it to my father." You took his hands in yours, noticing how clammy they were. "I shall not be separated from you, I am yours and you are mine."

"...I am yours?"

"And you are mine my love, no matter who I marry, whether it is a Dornish man, or a Northern man, you will always be the one to hold my heart."

"You will always hold my heart, no one can ever compare to you."

None of you could hold back anymore. You smashed your lips together, letting your hands roam wherever they wanted.

You opened your mouth and his tongue slid in. His hands caressed your face as yours rested on his chest.

"I don't want to go too far." Bran said, his eyes glazed like he just drunk two cups of wine.

"We won't."

In the morning before everyone woke, you snuck away, leaving Bran to sleep soundly for a few more hours, not noticing the bruise forming on your neck.

Your maids were currently dressing you, choosing what shoes you should wear, how to have your hair styled etc when your mother came in.

"Ah, there you are, your father requests your presence." She said as she crossed her hands in front of her.

"What does he want to talk with me about?" You said, turning towards her once the maids had finished.

"He-what's that?" Your mother pointed to a spot on your neck

What?

You looked down to where she was pointing, just to see a red bruise which had formed. The colour in your face drained.

"Mother-" She took you by the arm. "Come with me now, your father will want to know who did this.

Your father was extremely angry when your mother had taken you to him. He was so angry in fact, that he startled the Starks that were enjoying their peaceful morning with their delicious breakfast.

Ned quickly stood, trying to calm your father.

"My lord, I assure you we will find out which one of our children did this." His wife, Lady Catelyn tried to reassure him.

"You best do, and whoever it is, see they are punished." Your father gave a disgusted look to the Stark children and stormed out of the hall, leaving you and your mother there.

"Come, child." Your mother beckoned you away.

You gave one last look towards the Starks, holding eye contact with Bran. You mouthed 'I'm sorry' as you were gently pushed through the doors.

Catelyn paced back and forth as she looked at her children, Ned stood in the corner letting his wife do the talking.

It couldn't have been Sansa and Arya, they were with me last night, She thought.

"If I will, Mother, I was with Father last night." Robb decided to break the awkward silence. "And Jon was in the blacksmith's."

Catelyn finally stopped her pacing and turned to look at Bran who kept avoiding everyone's eyes and biting his nails.

Ned lifted himself from the wall and stood next to Catelyn. "Son,"

Bran squeezed his eyes shut feeling the pressure of everyone's gaze. "We didn't do anything!"

Ned knelt to his son's height and placed his hands on his shoulder. "Son, what happened? Tell the truth and tell it true."

Bran sighed, defeated. "All we did was kiss."

"Bran, do you realise what you've done? This could greatly affect Y/n's betrothal to Robb!" Catelyn was always the more harsher parent when it came to disciplining her children.

"Good! I hope it does!" Bran yelled back. In other instances, Bran would never talk back to his mother.

Before she could respond, a knight came through the door. "The Lord Y/L/N requests your presence."

Ned sighed and turned back to Bran. "You're a good lad Bran, we just have to hope no harsh punishment will be carried out for this."

Your father had been informed of the situation, and yet he was still infuriated.

"We are never coming back to this place again, you should teach your son some respect." That was the last thing your father said to Eddard Stark.

And it would be years before you saw Brandon Stark again.

#game of thrones #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones fanfiction #bran stark #bran stark x reader #bran stark imagine #isaac hempstead wright x reader #isaac hempstead wright

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istumpysk · 1 year

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Jon XI (Chapter 53)

Apologies for using Karsi as a placeholder. Val wasn't relevant enough to be on the show.

He was not a tall man, Tormund Giantsbane, but the gods had given him a broad chest and massive belly. Mance Rayder had named him Tormund Horn-Blower for the power of his lungs, and was wont to say that Tormund could laugh the snow off mountaintops. In his wroth, his bellows reminded Jon of a mammoth trumpeting.

[...]

Finally, as the shadows of the afternoon grew long outside the tent, Tormund Giantsbane—Tall-Talker, Horn-Blower, and Breaker of Ice, Tormund Thunderfist, Husband to Bears, Mead-King of Ruddy Hall, Speaker to Gods and Father of Hosts—thrust out his hand. "Done then, and may the gods forgive me. There's a hundred mothers never will, I know."

Are we being baited? We're being baited, aren't we?

"If you refuse," Mance Rayder said, "Tormund Giantsbane will sound the Horn of Winter three days hence, at dawn." - Jon X, ASOS

+.+.+

Jon clasped the offered hand. The words of his oath rang through his head. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. And for him a new refrain: I am the guard who opened the gates and let the foe march through. He would have given much and more to know that he was doing the right thing. But he had gone too far to turn back.

This is the price of peace, I pay it willingly. If I look back, I am lost. - Daenerys VIII, ADWD

+.+.+

"Gold for gruel, and boys … a cruel price. Whatever happened to that sweet lad I knew?"

They made him lord commander. "A fair bargain leaves both sides unhappy, I've heard it said. Three days?"

"If I live that long. Some o' my own will spit on me when they hear these terms." Tormund released Jon's hand. "Your crows will grumble too, if I know them. And I ought to. I have killed more o' you black buggers than I can count."

This week on Foils,

Jon negotiates an uneasy peace with those uncivilized, barbaric wildlings.

I hope he doesn't start sulking, and decide to burn everyone alive.

+.+.+

The wildling pulled off the band from his left arm and tossed it at Jon, then did the same with its twin upon his right. "Your first payment. Had those from my father and him from his. Now they're yours, you thieving black bastard."

The armbands were old gold, solid and heavy, engraved with the ancient runes of the First Men. Tormund Giantsbane had worn them as long as Jon had known him; they had seemed as much a part of him as his beard. "The Braavosi will melt these down for the gold. That seems a shame. Perhaps you ought to keep them."

"No. I'll not have it said that Tormund Thunderfist made the free folk give up their treasures whilst he kept his own."

Speaking of being baited, I continue to be distracted by the ancient runes.

+.+.+

Grief twisted Tormund's face. "Dormund was cut down in the battle for the Wall, and him still half a boy. One o' your king's knights did for him, some bastard all in grey steel with moths upon his shield. I saw the cut, but my boy was dead before I reached him. And Torwynd … it was the cold claimed him. Always sickly, that one. He just up and died one night. The worst o' it, before we ever knew he'd died he rose pale with them blue eyes. Had to see to him m'self. That was hard, Jon." Tears shone in his eyes.

Richard Horpe is with Stannis, I don't think anything is brewing.

+.+.+

"Dawn, then. Three days from now. The boys first."

"I heard you the first ten times, crow. A man'd think there was no trust between us." He spat. "Boys first, aye. Mammoths go the long way round. You make sure Eastwatch expects them. I'll make sure there's no fighting, nor rushing at your bloody gate. Nice and orderly we'll be, ducklings in a row. And me the mother duck. Har!" Tormund led Jon from his tent.

The mammoths are all at Eastwatch. Pray for Eastwatch.

If the Others do attack Eastwatch, you have a nice little parallel with Daenerys, who's about to go to war with the elephants.

+.+.+

He [Hareth] and Leathers were the only men Jon had brought with him to the parley; any more might have been seen as a sign of fear, and twenty men would have been of no more use than two if Tormund had been intent on blood.

Bruh, you have to create the illusion you're including others in your decision-making process. Even Tywin Lannister did that.

+.+.+

Ghost was the only protection Jon needed; the direwolf could sniff out foes, even those who hid their enmity behind smiles.

Ghost would have followed as well, but as the wolf came padding after them, Jon grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and wrestled him back inside. Borroq might be amongst those gathering at the Shieldhall. The last thing he needed just now was his wolf savaging the skinchanger's boar. - Jon XIII, ADWD

+.+.+

From above came the sudden sound of wings. Mormont's raven flapped from a limb of an old oak to perch upon Jon's saddle. "Corn," it cried. "Corn, corn, corn."

"Did you follow me as well?" Jon reached to shoo the bird away but ended up stroking its feathers. The raven cocked its eye at him. "Snow," it muttered, bobbing its head knowingly.

Eye, singular.

That ain't no blood raven, that's a Bran raven.

+.+.+

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.

They look as though they belong together. Val was clad all in white; white woolen breeches tucked into high boots of bleached white leather, white bearskin cloak pinned at the shoulder with a carved weirwood face, white tunic with bone fastenings. Her breath was white as well … but her eyes were blue, her long braid the color of dark honey, her cheeks flushed red from the cold. It had been a long while since Jon Snow had seen a sight so lovely.

"Have you been trying to steal my wolf?" he asked her.

"Why not? If every woman had a direwolf, men would be much sweeter. Even crows."

Wait a second.

WAIT A SECOND.

What happened ... to Cool Girl's ... grey eyes?

Why ... at this moment ... have they turned ... blue?

Val looked at him with pale grey eyes. - Jon X, ASOS

They had crowned her with a simple circlet of dark bronze, yet she looked more regal in bronze than Stannis did in gold. Her eyes were grey and fearless, unflinching. - Jon III, ADWD

See? Grey. She's shapeshifting again.

Something tells me that's not a continuity error.

She was as fair as he'd remembered, slender, full-breasted, graceful even at rest, with high sharp cheekbones and a thick braid of honey-colored hair that fell to her waist. - Jon X, ASOS

Her breath was white as well … but her eyes were blue - Jon XI, ADWD

Something weird is going on here, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

Worse, she was beautiful. - Arya I, AGOT

"Your bosom will be as lovely as the queen's," the old woman said as she looped her string around Sansa's chest. "You should not hide it so." - Sansa II, ASOS

"I had heard that Lord Littlefinger's daughter was fair of face and full of grace, but no one ever told me that she was a thief." - Alayne I, TWOW

Sansa had gotten their mother's fine high cheekbones - Arya I, AGOT

"OH, SWEET SHE WAS, AND PURE, AND FAIR! THE MAID WITH HONEY IN HER HAIR!" - Sansa I, ASOS

✨✨✨ Petyr studied her eyes, as if seeing them for the first time. "You have your mother's eyes. Honest eyes, and innocent. Blue as a sunlit sea. When you are a little older, many a man will drown in those eyes." - Sansa I, AFFC ✨✨✨

+.+.+

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.

"Have you been trying to steal my wolf?" he asked her.

"Why not? If every woman had a direwolf, men would be much sweeter. Even crows."

It's a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.

Two pairs of hose for her legs, boots that laced up to her knees, heavy leather gloves, and finally a hooded cloak of soft white fox fur.

[...]

He smiled. "I wish you could see yourself, my lady. You are so beautiful. You're crusted over with snow like some little bear cub, but your face is flushed and you can scarcely breathe. How long have you been out here? You must be very cold. Let me warm you, Sansa. - Sansa VII, ASOS

+.+.+

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.

"Have you been trying to steal my wolf?" he asked her.

"Why not? If every woman had a direwolf, men would be much sweeter. Even crows."

It's always there, the truth. We just need to look for it.

"I had heard that Lord Littlefinger's daughter was fair of face and full of grace, but no one ever told me that she was a thief."

"You wrong me, ser. I am no thief!"

Ser Roland placed his hand over his heart. "Then how do you explain this hole in my chest, from where you stole my heart?" - Alayne I, TWOW

+.+.+

Then Ghost emerged from between two trees, with Val beside him.

"Have you been trying to steal my wolf?" he asked her.

"Why not? If every woman had a direwolf, men would be much sweeter. Even crows."

Why, it's almost as if this "character" (I use that term loosely) is a plot device, who only exists to remind us of other people.

The light of the half-moon turned Val's honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. "The air tastes sweet."

"My tongue is too numb to tell. All I can taste is cold." - Jon VIII, ADWD

Pale silver? Bad. ❌

Dark honey, blue-eyed? Good. ✅

Okay, I'm done.

+.+.+

What had that oaf Axell Florent said of Val? "A nubile girl, not hard to look upon. Good hips, good breasts, well made for whelping children."

+.+.+

All true enough, but the wildling woman was so much more.

If you have any critical thinking skills whatsoever, this should have prompted nothing more than a laugh.

The joke is he doesn't know anything about Val. The reader doesn't know anything about Val. Val is a blank page dressed in white.

+.+.+

She had proved that by finding Tormund where seasoned rangers of the Watch had failed. She may not be a princess, but she would make a worthy wife for any lord.

Again, the appropriate response is to laugh.

Val would make a dreadful wife for any noble, and the author's going to demonstrate why.

I weep for people who can't see what's going on here.

Sansa was a lady at three, always so courteous and eager to please. - Catelyn VII, ACOK

She is good at this, he thought, as he watched her tell Lord Gyles that his cough was sounding better, compliment Elinor Tyrell on her gown, and question Jalabhar Xho about wedding customs in the Summer Isles. His cousin Ser Lancel had been brought down by Ser Kevan, the first time he'd left his sickbed since the battle. He looks ghastly. Lancel's hair had turned white and brittle, and he was thin as a stick. Without his father beside him holding him up, he would surely have collapsed. Yet when Sansa praised his valor and said how good it was to see him getting strong again, both Lancel and Ser Kevan beamed. She would have made Joffrey a good queen and a better wife if he'd had the sense to love her. He wondered if his nephew was capable of loving anyone. - Tyrion VIII, ASOS

A poor substitute for the real thing.

King Stannis had plans for Val, he knew; she was the mortar with which he meant to seal the peace between the northmen and the free folk. - Samwell I, AFFC

Our alliances in the south may be as solid as Casterly Rock, but there remains the north to win, and the key to the north is Sansa Stark. - Tyrion III, ASOS

Always has been, always will be.

She may not be a princess

Wait for it.

WAIT FOR IT.

+.+.+

But that bridge had been burned a long time ago, and Jon himself had thrown the torch. "Toregg is welcome to her," he announced. "I took a vow."

That's kind of a dick thing to say right in front of her, lol.

+.+.+

"She won't mind. Will you, girl?"

Val patted the long bone knife on her hip. "Lord Crow is welcome to steal into my bed any night he dares. Once he's been gelded, keeping those vows will come much easier for him."

HA HA she's so cool.

+.+.+

As Jon scratched Ghost behind the ear, Toregg brought up Val's horse for her. She still rode the grey garron that Mully had given her the day she left the Wall, a shaggy, stunted thing blind in one eye. As she turned it toward the Wall, she asked, "How fares the little monster?"

+.+.+

"Freedom of the castle you shall have, but I regret to say you must remain a captive. I can promise that you will not be troubled by unwanted visitors, however. My own men guard Hardin's Tower, not the queen's. And Wun Wun sleeps in the entry hall."

Sansa hovered by the door, for once unguarded. The queen had given her freedom of the castle as a reward for being good, yet even so, she was escorted everywhere she went. - Sansa V, AGOT

Shoutout to @please-dot!

+.+.+

Jon saw signs of sickness too. That disquieted him more than he could say. If Tormund's band were starved and sick, what of the thousands who had followed Mother Mole to Hardhome? Cotter Pyke should reach them soon. If the winds were kind, his fleet might well be on its way back to Eastwatch even now, with as many of the free folk as he could cram aboard.

Jon lets the sick pass the Wall.

Now I'm wondering what the author's personal stance was on Daenerys keeping the sick out of Meereen. I didn't think she had much of a choice, but perhaps George disagrees.

+.+.+

"How did you fare with Tormund?" asked Val.

"Ask me a year from now. The hard part still awaits me. The part where I convince mine own to eat this meal I've cooked for them. None of them are going to like the taste, I fear."

"Let me help."

"You have. You brought me Tormund."

"I can do more."

Why not? thought Jon. They are all convinced she is a princess. Val looked the part and rode as if she had been born on horseback. A warrior princess, he decided, not some willowy creature who sits up in a tower, brushing her hair and waiting for some knight to rescue her.

There it is, in all its glory.

A real authentic warrior princess.

Controversial, but I agree with him.

Val is nothing like that other princess in the story.

+.+.+

I'm not finished.

In case Jon's own thoughts weren't enough,

Val is no princess, though. I told him that half a hundred times. - Jon VIII, ADWD

George has basically confirmed Jon is projecting all over this girl.

However, in my own defense, I should note that Dalla was not a "warrior woman" per se. She was from a warrior culture, yes; one that gave women the right, but not the obligation, to be fighters. Ygritte was a warrior woman, as was (most conspicuously) the fearsome Harma Dogshead. Dalla and Val were not. - George R. R. Martin

She is no warrior, she is no princess, and she damn well sure isn't the mortar to the north.

As for Jon's thoughts on willowy creatures in towers,

He knew nothing of his mother; Eddard Stark would not talk of her. Yet he dreamed of her at times, so often that he could almost see her face. In his dreams, she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind. - Jon III, AGOT

The mare whickered softly as Jon Snow tightened the cinch. "Easy, sweet lady," he said in a soft voice, quieting her with a touch. - Jon IX, AGOT

He was not a man you'd expect to speak of maids and wedding nights. So far as Jon knew, Qhorin had spent his whole life in the Watch. Did he ever love a maid or have a wedding? He could not ask. Instead he fanned the fire. When the blaze was all acrackle, he peeled off his stiff gloves to warm his hands, and sighed, wondering if ever a kiss had felt as good. - Jon VIII, ACOK

Sometimes she sang in a low husky voice that stirred him. And sometimes by the cookfire when she sat hugging her knees with the flames waking echoes in her red hair, and looked at him, just smiling . . . well, that stirred some things as well. - Jon II, ASOS

If I could show her Winterfell . . . give her a flower from the glass gardens, feast her in the Great Hall, and show her the stone kings on their thrones. We could bathe in the hot pools, and love beneath the heart tree while the old gods watched over us. - Jon V, ASOS

"Then I'd push him in a stream or throw a bucket o' water on him. Anyhow, men shouldn't smell sweet like flowers."

"What's wrong with flowers?" - Jon V, ASOS

For a time he dreamed that Ygritte was with him, tending him with gentle hands. - Jon VI, ASOS

He watched the child nurse at Gilly's breast, and then he watched Jon watch. Jon is smiling. A sad smile, still, but definitely a smile of sorts. Sam was glad to see it. It is the first time I've seen him smile since I got back. - Samwell IV, ASOS

A snowflake danced upon the air. Then another. Dance with me, Jon Snow, he thought. You'll dance with me anon. - Jon XII, ADWD

I might take it more seriously if he wasn't such a willowy boy.

+.+.+

"I must inform the queen of this agreement," he said. "You are welcome to come meet her, if you can find it in yourself to bend a knee." It would never do to offend Her Grace before he even opened his mouth.

"May I laugh when I kneel?"

"You may not. This is no game. A river of blood runs between our peoples, old and deep and red. Stannis Baratheon is one of the few who favors admitting wildlings to the realm. I need his queen's support for what I've done."

Val's playful smile died. "You have my word, Lord Snow. I will be a proper wildling princess for your queen."

Oh boy, I can't wait to see how well princess emissary does.

Teach him, author. Show him what happens to 11-year-old girls boys who romanticize pretty princes princesses they don't know.

+.+.+

She is not my queen, he might have said. If truth be told, the day of her departure cannot come too fast for me. And if the gods are good, she will take Melisandre with her.

I know this is about Selyse, but.

+.+.+

"If it please m'lord, the lads were wondering. Will it be peace, m'lord? Or blood and iron?"

"Peace," Jon Snow replied. "Three days hence, Tormund Giantsbane will lead his people through the Wall. As friends, not foes. Some may even swell our ranks, as brothers. It will be for us to make them welcome. Now back to your duties."

This, plus the conflict between Daenerys and Yunkai being (temporarily) resolved by a peace deal, is another strong indicator the Others will not be stopped with swords or magic.

+.+.+

Bring parchment, quills, and a pot of maester's black to my chambers. Then summon Marsh, Yarwyck, Septon Cellador, Clydas." Cellador would be half-drunk, and Clydas was a poor substitute for a real maester, but they were what he had. Till Sam returns.

Poor substitutes everywhere you look! What happened to getting more maesters?

"If you ask the Citadel for more maesters . . ."

"I mean to. We'll have need of every one. Aemon Targaryen is not so easily replaced, however." - Jon II, ADWD

Looks like the author is going to pretend it doesn't take years to become a maester. Who needs a 5 year gap?

+.+.+

He turned to Val. "My lady. With me, if you please."

"The crow commands, the captive must obey." Her tone was playful.

They made their way toward the King's Tower, along fresh-shoveled pathways between mounds of dirty snow. "I have heard it said that your queen has a great dark beard."

Jon knew he should not smile, but he did.

Commanding them was Ser Patrek of King's Mountain, clad in his knightly raiment of white and blue and silver, his cloak a spatter of five-pointed stars. When presented to Val, the knight sank to one knee to kiss her glove. "You are even lovelier than I was told, princess," he declared. "The queen has told me much and more of your beauty."

"How odd, when she has never seen me." Val patted Ser Patrek on the head. "Up with you now, ser kneeler. Up, up." She sounded as if she were talking to a dog.

It was all that Jon could do not to laugh.

+.+.+

When presented to Val, the knight sank to one knee to kiss her glove. "You are even lovelier than I was told, princess," he declared. "The queen has told me much and more of your beauty."

"How odd, when she has never seen me."

Not to be outdone, the pimply knight hopped up and said, "Ser Ossifer speaks truly, you are the most beautiful maid in all the Seven Kingdoms." It might have been a sweeter courtesy had he not addressed it to her chest.

"And have you seen all those maids yourself, ser?" Alayne asked him. "You are young to be so widely travelled." - Alayne I, TWOW

Shoutout to @please-dot!

+.+.+

They found Her Grace sewing by the fire, whilst her fool danced about to music only he could hear, the cowbells on his antlers clanging. "The crow, the crow," Patchface cried when he saw Jon. "Under the sea the crows are white as snow, I know, I know, oh, oh, oh."

If under the sea is still code for death, then I believe that's more evidence of Jon warging inside Ghost.

+.+.+

There was no sign of Lady Melisandre. For that much Jon was grateful.

Lol.

+.+.+

"Your Grace." He took a knee. Val did likewise.

Wow, impressive. Let's see your curtsy, princess blue-blood.

+.+.+

"Are you the wildling princess?" Shireen asked Val.

"Some call me that," said Val. "My sister was wife to Mance Rayder, the King-Beyond-the-Wall. She died giving him a son."

I'm sorry, don't the kneelers call you that?

+.+.+

"I'm a princess too," Shireen announced, "but I never had a sister. I used to have a cousin once, before he sailed away. He was just a bastard, but I liked him."

"Honestly, Shireen," her mother said. "I am sure the lord commander did not come to hear about Robert's by-blows. Patchface, be a good fool and take the princess to her room."

The bells on his hat rang. "Away, away," the fool sang. "Come with me beneath the sea, away, away, away." He took the little princess by one hand and drew her from the room, skipping.

Hey, princess Sansa has a bastard cousin she's fond of too.

Please don't take Shireen beneath the sea. Please?

+.+.+

Jon said, "Your Grace, the leader of the free folk has agreed to my terms."

Queen Selyse gave the tiniest of nods. "It was ever my lord husband's wish to grant sanctuary to these savage peoples. So long as they keep the king's peace and the king's laws, they are welcome in our realm." She pursed her lips. "I am told they have more giants with them."

Yes, that was definitely something Stannis genuinely cared about.

Melisandre nodded solemnly, as if she had taken his words to heart, but this Weeper did not matter. None of his free folk mattered. They were a lost people, a doomed people, destined to vanish from the earth, as the children of the forest had vanished. - Melisandre I, ADWD

+.+.+

She pursed her lips. "I am told they have more giants with them." Val answered. "Almost two hundred of them, Your Grace. And more than eighty mammoths."

The queen shuddered. "Dreadful creatures." Jon could not tell if she was speaking of the mammoths or the giants. "Though such beasts might be useful to my lord husband in his battles."

There's two hundred giants, and eighty mammoths?

Probably not for long.

"Though such beasts might be useful to my lord husband in his battles."

I hate these people.

+.+.+

Selyse sniffed. "If you say so. No doubt you know about such things. Where do you mean to settle these wildlings? Surely Mole's Town is not large enough to contain … how many are they?" "Four thousand, Your Grace. They will help us garrison our abandoned castles, the better to defend the Wall."

Numbers update! Four thousand wildlings are passing the Wall.

Most of them are not fighting men, and won't factor into the battle for Winterfell.

+.+.+

"I see you have considered all this carefully, Lord Snow. I am sure King Stannis will be pleased when he returns triumphant from his battle."

Lol, k.

You know what I would do if I triumphantly won back Winterfell, and secured a kingdom to my cause?

Burn my daughter alive to celebrate.

+.+.+

"Of course," the queen went on, "the wildlings must first acknowledge Stannis as their king and R'hllor as their god."

And here we are, face-to-face in the narrow passage. "Your Grace, forgive me. Those were not the terms that we agreed to."

The queen's face hardened. "A grievous oversight." What faint traces of warmth her voice had held vanished all at once.

Don't worry, Jon's a seasoned veteran when it comes to tense matters like this. He's got this under contr-

+.+.+

"Free folk do not kneel," Val told her.

"Then they must be knelt," the queen declared.

"Do that, Your Grace, and we will rise again at the first chance," Val promised. "Rise with blades in hand."

The queen's lips tightened, and her chin gave a small quiver. "You are insolent. I suppose that is only to be expected of a wildling. We must find you a husband who can teach you courtesy."

Damn, you fucking suck at this, princess diplomacy.

+.+.+

"Your Grace." Jon knelt again. This time Val did not join him. "I am sorry my actions have displeased you. I did as I thought best. Do I have your leave to go?"

I would have liked to see him reflect on what a dumbass princess fumble is, but I understand I can't have everything.

Or maybe I can ...

+.+.+

Once outside and well away from the queen's men, Val gave vent to her wroth. "You lied about her beard. That one has more hair on her chin than I have between my legs. And the daughter … her face …"

"Greyscale."

"The grey death is what we call it."

"It is not always mortal in children."

"North of the Wall it is. Hemlock is a sure cure, but a pillow or a blade will work as well. If I had given birth to that poor child, I would have given her the gift of mercy long ago."

Oh no, what's happening? Say it ain't so, princess filicide.

Surely you wouldn't kill your own child if it was unnecessary.

The curse was oft seen in children, especially in damp, cold climes. The afflicted flesh stiffened, calcified, and cracked, though the dwarf had read that greyscale's progress could be stayed by limes, mustard poultices, and scalding-hot baths (the maesters said) or by prayer, sacrifice, and fasting (the septons insisted). Then the disease passed, leaving its young victims disfigured but alive. Maesters and septons alike agreed that children marked by greyscale could never be touched by the rarer mortal form of the affliction, nor by its terrible swift cousin, the grey plague. - Tyrion V, ADWD

You should keep going, princess merciful. Nothing turns Jon on more than talk of killing kids.

+.+.+

This was a Val that Jon had never seen before. "Princess Shireen is the queen's only child."

A little too much wildling in that wildling, huh?

You've never seen any part of Val before, you banana.

+.+.+

"I pity both of them. The child is not clean."

DON'T STOP GEORGE. LEARN HIM.

+.+.+

"If Stannis wins his war, Shireen will stand as heir to the Iron Throne."

"Then I pity your Seven Kingdoms."

+.+.+

"The maesters say greyscale is not—"

"The maesters may believe what they wish. Ask a woods witch if you would know the truth. The grey death sleeps, only to wake again. The child is not clean!"

"She seems a sweet girl. You cannot know—"

"I can. You know nothing, Jon Snow." Val seized his arm. "I want the monster out of there. Him and his wet nurses. You cannot leave them in that same tower as the dead girl."

Jon shook her hand away. "She is not dead."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

+.+.+

"She is. Her mother cannot see it. Nor you, it seems. Yet death is there." She walked away from him, stopped, turned back. "I brought you Tormund Giantsbane. Bring me my monster."

Bring princess maternal the monster. She's great with children.

Death is certainly there for Shireen, but not for the reasons Val believes.

While we're on the topic of mercy killing kids, would you like to know who you're supposed to be thinking about while this conversation is taking place? ("Then I pity your Seven Kingdoms.")

"He could end his torment," Jaime said. "I would, if it were my son. It would be a mercy." - Tyrion I, AGOT

"Oh, don't be absurd." Cersei closed the window. "Yes, I hoped the boy would die. So did you. Even Robert thought that would have been for the best. 'We kill our horses when they break a leg, and our dogs when they go blind, but we are too weak to give the same mercy to crippled children,' he told me. He was blind himself at the time, from drink." - Jaime IX, ASOS

Yeah, this girl is totally Jon's happy ending.

+.+.+

"If I can, I will."

"Do. You owe me a debt, Jon Snow."

Jon watched her stride away. She is wrong. She must be wrong. Greyscale is not so deadly as she claims, not in children.

Shireen is fine, she's had greyscale for 11 years now.

Let's wait and see if that not deadly disease is used to justify a horrific act.

Ask a woods witch if you would know the truth. The grey death sleeps, only to wake again.

+.+.+

At four hundred feet the wind had teeth, and tore at his black cloak so it slapped noisily at the iron bars. At seven hundred it cut right through him. The Wall is mine, Jon reminded himself as the winchmen were swinging in the cage, for two more days, at least.

Close. It's yours for about another week, then you can say goodbye.

+.+.+

Both wore woolen hoods pulled down over their heads, so nothing could be seen of their faces but their eyes, but he knew Ty by the tangled rope of greasy black hair falling down his back and Owen by the sausage stuffed into the scabbard at his hip. He might have known them anyway, just by the way they stood. A good lord must know his men, his father had once told him and Robb, back at Winterfell.

I wish you'd do a better job at knowing Bowen Marsh.

+.+.+

Jon walked to the edge of the Wall and gazed down upon the killing ground where Mance Rayder's host had died. He wondered where Mance was now. Did he ever find you, little sister? Or were you just a ploy he used so I would set him free?

We're still trying to figure that one out, Jon.

+.+.+

It had been so long since he had last seen Arya. What would she look like now? Would he even know her? Arya Underfoot. Her face was always dirty. Would she still have that little sword he'd had Mikken forge for her? Stick them with the pointy end, he'd told her. Wisdom for her wedding night if half of what he heard of Ramsay Snow was true. Bring her home, Mance. I saved your son from Melisandre, and now I am about to save four thousand of your free folk. You owe me this one little girl.

Arya Stark, still very much a child in the eyes of Jon Snow.

Unrelated, but did you know Shireen and Arya are the exact same age? I bet Jon knows.

+.+.+

Jon Snow flexed the fingers of his sword hand, remembering all he'd lost. Sam, you sweet fat fool, you played me a cruel jape when you made me lord commander. A lord commander has no friends.

+.+.+

Jon pointed at the lights of their campfires. "There they are. Four thousand, Tormund claims."

"Three thousand, I make them, by the fires." Bowen Marsh lived for counts and measures. "More than twice that number at Hardhome with the woods witch, we are told. And Ser Denys writes of great camps in the mountains beyond the Shadow Tower …"

Scratch that, three thousand wildings are passing the Wall. More than six thousand are at Hardhome.

Many more are in the mountains beyond the Shadow Tower. Do we know what's happening at the Shadow Tower?

+.+.+

Jon did not deny it. "Tormund says the Weeper means to try the Bridge of Skulls again."

The Old Pomegranate touched his scar. He had gotten it defending the Bridge of Skulls the last time the Weeping Man had tried to cut his way across the Gorge. "Surely the lord commander cannot mean to allow that … that demon through as well?"

"Not gladly." Jon had not forgotten the heads the Weeping Man had left him, with bloody holes where their eyes had been. Black Jack Bulwer, Hairy Hal, Garth Greyfeather. I cannot avenge them, but I will not forget their names. "But yes, my lord, him as well. We cannot pick and choose amongst the free folk, saying this one may pass, this one may not. Peace means peace for all."

[...]

"How many rangers has the Weeper killed?" asked Othell Yarwyck. "How many women has he raped or killed or stolen?"

"Three of mine own ilk," said Old Flint. "And he blinds the girls he does not take."

Similar to Daenerys and her peace deal, Jon's forced to swallow an especially difficult pill.

I'm not smart enough to tell you what should have happened.

+.+.+

"You need not trust a man to use him." Else how could I make use of all of you? "We need the Weeper, and others like him. Who knows the wild better than a wildling? Who knows our foes better than a man who has fought them?"

That's kind of unfair. They haven't done anything. Yet.

+.+.+

"Brothers should not squabble," Septon Cellador said. "Let us kneel and pray to the Crone to light our way to wisdom."

George mocking "thoughts and prayers" before it became a thing.

+.+.+

"Lord Snow," said The Norrey, "where do you mean to put these wildlings o' yours? Not on my lands, I hope."

"Aye," declared Old Flint. "You want them in the Gift, that's your folly, but see they don't wander off or I'll send you back their heads. Winter is nigh, I want no more mouths to feed."

I think it was paramount he involve these two in the negotiations.

The Night's Watch relies on the support of noble houses, especially northern houses.

+.+.+

"The wildlings will remain upon the Wall," Jon assured them. "Most will be housed in one of our abandoned castles." The Watch now had garrisons at Icemark, Long Barrow, Sable Hall, Greyguard, and Deep Lake, all badly undermanned, but ten castles still stood empty and abandoned. "Men with wives and children, all orphan girls and any orphan boys below the age of ten, old women, widowed mothers, any woman who does not care to fight. The spearwives we'll send to Long Barrow to join their sisters, single men to the other forts we've reopened. Those who take the black will remain here, or be posted to Eastwatch or the Shadow Tower. Tormund will take Oakenshield as his seat, to keep him close at hand."

Tormund Oakenshield. Can someone tell me if Thorin Oakenshield ever blows a horn?

I'm not sure these castles survive the Wall falling. They have to go somewhere else.

You want them in the Gift, that's your folly

+.+.+

Bowen Marsh sighed. "If they do not slay us with their swords, they will do so with their mouths. Pray, how does the lord commander propose to feed Tormund and his thousands?"

Jon had anticipated that question. "Through Eastwatch. We will bring in food by ship, as much as might be required. From the riverlands and the stormlands and the Vale of Arryn, from Dorne and the Reach, across the narrow sea from the Free Cities."

"And this food will be paid for … how, if I may ask?"

With gold, from the Iron Bank of Braavos, Jon might have replied. Instead he said, "I have agreed that the free folk may keep their furs and pelts. They will need those for warmth when winter comes. All other wealth they must surrender. Gold and silver, amber, gemstones, carvings, anything of value. We will ship it all across the narrow sea to be sold in the Free Cities."

"All the wealth o' the wildlings," said The Norrey. "That should buy you a bushel o' barleycorn. Two bushels, might be."

SAY THAT. TELL THEM.

Like, almost every insurrection happens because of food scarcity in this series. Please tell them you have money to buy food.

+.+.+

"Lord Commander, why not demand that the wildlings give up their arms as well?" asked Clydas.

Leathers laughed at that. "You want the free folk to fight beside you against the common foe. How are we to do that without arms? Would you have us throw snowballs at the wights? Or will you give us sticks to hit them with?"

The arms most wildlings carry are little more than sticks, thought Jon.

SAY THE QUIET PART OUT LOUD.

+.+.+

"Tormund has given me his oath. He will serve with us until the spring. The Weeper and their other captains will swear the same or we will not let them pass."

Old Flint shook his head. "They will betray us."

"The Weeper's word is worthless," said Othell Yarwyck.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think we get another update on the Weeper in this book. I don't think he's passed the Wall.

+.+.+

"The gods of the North, since before this Wall was raised," said Jon. "Those are the gods that Tormund swore by. He will keep his word. I know him, as I knew Mance Rayder. I marched with them for a time, you may recall."

"I had not forgotten," said the Lord Steward.

No, thought Jon, I did not think you had.

What possessed him to bring that up?

+.+.+

"It is not their children who concern us. We fear the fathers, not the sons."

"As do I. So I insisted upon hostages." I am not the trusting fool you take me for … nor am I half wildling, no matter what you believe. "One hundred boys between the ages of eight and sixteen. A son from each of their chiefs and captains, the rest chosen by lot. The boys will serve as pages and squires, freeing our own men for other duties. Some may choose to take the black one day. Queerer things have happened. The rest will stand hostage for the loyalty of their sires."

The northmen glanced at one another. "Hostages," mused The Norrey. "Tormund has agreed to this?"

It was that, or watch his people die. "My blood price, he called it," said Jon Snow, "but he will pay."

Maybe lead with this next time.

Can't say I'm a big fan of child hostages.

We're going to hope this doesn't go to hell once Jon's killed. If I had to guess, I'd say the Meereen hostages both sides hold are in a lot greater danger.

+.+.+

"None but them whose sires displeased the Kings o' Winter," said The Norrey. "Those came home shorter by a head. So you tell me, boy … if these wildling friends o' yours prove false, do you have the belly to do what needs be done?"

Ask Janos Slynt. "Tormund Giantsbane knows better than to try me. I may seem a green boy in your eyes, Lord Norrey, but I am still a son of Eddard Stark."

Janos Slynt wasn't an innocent child, tough guy.

+.+.+

Marsh flushed a deeper shade of red. "The lord commander must pardon my bluntness, but I have no softer way to say this. What you propose is nothing less than treason. For eight thousand years the men of the Night's Watch have stood upon the Wall and fought these wildlings. Now you mean to let them pass, to shelter them in our castles, to feed them and clothe them and teach them how to fight. Lord Snow, must I remind you? You swore an oath."

"I know what I swore." Jon said the words. "I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. Were those the same words you said when you took your vows?"

"They were. As the lord commander knows."

"Are you certain that I have not forgotten some? The ones about the king and his laws, and how we must defend every foot of his land and cling to each ruined castle? How does that part go?" Jon waited for an answer. None came. "I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord—what are these wildlings, if not men?"

Bowen Marsh opened his mouth. No words came out. A flush crept up his neck.

That's a great point, but I wouldn't have been so sassy about it.

To be fair, I know what happens.

+.+.+

Outside the day was bright and cloudless. The sun had returned to the sky after a fortnight's absence, and to the south the Wall rose blue-white and glittering. There was a saying Jon had heard from the older men at Castle Black: the Wall has more moods than Mad King Aerys, they'd say, or sometimes, the Wall has more moods than a woman. On cloudy days it looked to be white rock. On moonless nights it was as black as coal. In snowstorms it seemed carved of snow. But on days like this, there was no mistaking it for anything but ice. On days like this the Wall shimmered bright as a septon's crystal, every crack and crevasse limned by sunlight, as frozen rainbows danced and died behind translucent ripples. On days like this the Wall was beautiful.

Jon Snow turned away. The last light of the sun had begun to fade. He watched the cracks along the Wall go from red to grey to black, from streaks of fire to rivers of black ice. Down below, Lady Melisandre would be lighting her nightfire and chanting, Lord of Light, defend us, for the night is dark and full of terrors.

The beginning and end of the chapter. The Wall is doing symbolism again.

+.+.+

"Winter is coming," Jon said at last, breaking the awkward silence, "and with it the white walkers. The Wall is where we stop them. The Wall was made to stop them … but the Wall must be manned. This discussion is at an end. We have much to do before the gate is opened. Tormund and his people will need to be fed and clothed and housed. Some are sick and will need nursing. Those will fall to you, Clydas. Save as many as you can."

[...]

"Lord Bowen, you shall collect the tolls. The gold and silver, the amber, the torques and armbands and necklaces. Sort it all, count it, see that it reaches Eastwatch safely."

"Yes, Lord Snow," said Bowen Marsh.

And Jon thought, "Ice," she said, "and daggers in the dark. Blood frozen red and hard, and naked steel." His sword hand flexed. The wind was rising.

What's the point of remembering those words if you're not going to do anything about it?

Final thoughts:

Often imitated, never duplicated.

That's what happens when you expect a cheap knockoff to do the job of a real princess.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #jon xi #winter of walloping val

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atopvisenyashill · 6 months

Note

What kind of jobs do you think asoiaf characters would have in the real world?

jon - history podcaster, famous in lefty circles, robb keeps begging him to get a real job so the stans of his haters stop review bombing robb's law practice

dany - political twitch streamer, they have beef bc jon is an anarchist and dany is an ML.

barristan - he's an econimist and a landlord and dany gets dragged constantly for being friends with him and retweeting his shitty medium articles.

grey worm - he has A Real Job as a low level agriculture engineer but he does political commentary in his free time which is why he's friends with dany & barristan.

arya - runs a coffee shop and is everyone's favorite manager because she's super chill and drives them to protests on her days off. has a burner twitter account and ratioed barristan online once.

sansa - a small business owner that has one of those cute little storefronts where four or five small businesses band together to be one shop.

robb - has a law practice doing something Important like immigration help or something. lives in a nice apartment above his practice.

theon - literally just freeloads at robb's apartment.

jeyne westerling - receptionist at robb's practice, the power dynamic IS weird but also kind of sexy. they are both clearly fucking theon as well, ned has no idea this is happening and keeps asking about grandkids even tho jeyne has an IUD.

catelyn - she clerked for a scotus judge and she is NOT modest but she IS modest about the thanksgiving she spent at RBG's house. her instagram is dedicated to promoting sansa's business because she is sooo proud.

jeyne poole - the only non nepo baby in the group who lucked out in befriending two rich girls in the art fair circuit and got a storefront with them.

loras tyrell - think mayor pete but with more personality.

margaery tyrell - the third business owner with sansa & jeyne, but she uses her mother's maiden name so no one associates her with her brother's tacky lib poitics or accueses her of being a nepo baby (she definitely is, but she takes the accussation personal)

renly baratheon - a fed from a family of feds, and the FACE of a pinkwashing campaign

cersei & tyrion - political family but for local politics like the daleys or cuomos or castro brothers (as in joaquin and julian). they fucking hate loras for primarying tywin from the center and winning but also lowkey hate each other because they both want Tywin's seat as like, Lieutenant Governor or some shit.

jaime lanniser - was supposed to be in politics but got ptsd from his time in the military and became a professional hater and freeloader until brienne talked him into getting a degree and helping people instead of just giving donations to charity for tax write offs.

brienne of tarth - i have no idea what she does but she works for a non profit and is solidly middle class as a child.

the martells - they own a local chain grocery store and they have a rivalry with arya but they keep it classy. oberyn posts thirst traps all the time and doran made him put 12 disclaimsers on every social media profile about not speaking for the store but otherwise he does what he wants. yeah man pour milk over your tiddies for charity who gives a fuck.

#asks #a song of ice and fire #modern au #i smoked right before i wrote this #i am so dedicated to jon and dany fucking hating each other bc jon is an anarchist and shit talks stalin CONSTANTLY #and dany is an ML and holodomor denier who thinks hes a cia op

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girlwholovesturtles · 5 months

Text

Family Business

I can't even remember where I left off last time, my brain has gone full scrambled egg.

Okay, they do in fact have a book that lets you speak with the dead, apparently?

Oh, hello Gerard nice to meet you... can a ghost even smoke? ... Apparently not.

"Good." Did he not- oh, no, she was just fighter I guess?

"I'm a book." Dude... fair I guess... oh, my man just wants to really die, fair enough. Actually, the way he's talking about it, it reminds me of the computer episode. Where the guy stored his brain in a digital format and basically exists in agony, which I imagine is probably what it might be like for Gerard.

I wonder if it actually hurt to be removed from the book like that... goddammit Gerard! Oh, okay, that's actually kinda useful.

"Gertrude didn't make jokes." Yeah, that tracks.

Jon likes using his power. That actually is kind of interesting. I can't help but wonder if it's just getting the information out of people or if there's some sort of satisfaction that comes with being able to force people to do what he wants them to do.

Hmm, this is more devolving into small talk then getting any actual info but I imagine it must be cathartic to talk to someone about all this baggage he's got going on... Jon, shush...

Wait, the Lukas family worship the power of loneliness. That actually tracks so well. The first story we heard about the Lukas family was the woman was going to marry into the family before her fiance died. They weren't really somber, just closed off and uninterested in this new woman being part of their lives. And then in the Boatswain's Call, everyone on the boat was isolated and quiet. Or the actor who chose to be alone, the spider guy who was spiraling and clearly felt like no one cared, and it's not hard to connect the dots with the fact that Peter Lukas appeared before Martin the same way he did the spider dude. I see you story, I know where this is going.

Wait, how did his dad quit the Archive?

This poor guy... why are all the maternal figures in this story so sucky?

Oh... I remember this part of the story. Oh, it worked? That sounds absurd! Good lord, this man had a very bad time. He didn't just burn the book out right?

Yeah, I can't believe Gertrude brought him back and then just left the book behind. That's messed up lady.

Okay, so I actually was thinking about this! Before when I listened to Michael's statement about how Michael Shelley became one with the Spiral, I assumed that the Becoming was specifically the ritual they were enacting but I completely missed that it had called it the "Great Twisting" or something to that effect. So it stands to reason that all the different entities share one goal in mind, to Become and to force the rest of the world to mirror their image. Which makes a lot more sense why Gertrude was trying so hard to stop these things from happening.

That said, it stands to reason that the Eye may also very well have it own ritual in mind and that's why Elias wants Jon to stop the Unknowing.

I'm sorry? These entities are just fear?! Actually, that kinda makes sense?

The thing about fears changing and being cultural does make sense but a lot of these are pretty base like. Fire/destruction, being buried or tight spaces, the dark, loneliness, being watched, death, insects in general, lose of sanity, the unknown. Those all are pretty standard and it's not surprising that these things still thrive.

There are 14 of them? Like, only 14? Okay then. What are they?

"Like your colors but if colors hated me." This line is so funny to me.

No gods of hope, tragic but predictable.

Oh, are we getting list?! You're saying a lot, I just want to make a list!

The list, hopefully, simplified. (For literally no one else but me!)

Eye, being watched. Spiral, madness. The End, death. Stranger, the unknown. The Lonely, isolation. Desolation, destruction. The Slaughter, violence, particularly senseless violence. The Vast, too much space. The Buried, not enough space. The Dark, obviously. Corruption, rot or sickness. Web, spiders and control. The Flesh, being eaten, oh may god, animals count in this too? The Hunt, being hunted, also an animal fear.

This is weird...

I knew it! I knew the Eye would have one!

Fair well Gerry, you were short lived but I quite liked you. And now I can look at you're fanart and have proper context, hopefully.

I... wouldn't accept any drink from these two... okay, I guess it's fine... at least your going home next episode?

Good lord, that was so much lore. Normally a lore dump like this would bore me but I'm into it. It helps that the characters and the concepts are actually interesting to listen to.

#the magnus archives #tma #live blogging #long post #episode 111 #This got so long #I'm so sorry

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sowthetide · 3 months

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I devoured this story and almost immediately started rereading it, so I thought that I should thank you for my favorite parts.

1) Fleshing out the Iron Islands! It is so, so boring when Theon has to choose between his noble foster home and his horrible natural family. Getting to see the Ironborn not so much for their good points as their reality has been a delight.

2) Quen! I love her. She is very much Theon, just with different opportunities. I find that the fandom tends to underrate Theon's strengths, which is understandable given his crash-and-burn storyline and because the show really makes him the butt of the joke, but I find it easy to understand why Robb is in love with her in your story.

3) On that note, their relationship is really wonderful. They are very convincing best friend; they know each other probably best in the world and they just enjoy each other so much. But the love story isn't too saccharine, as both of them (yes, including Robb) hurt each other sometimes, on purpose and by accident.

I also enjoy how the way they treat each other romantically is so different from their rapport with everyone else. Quen will check out anyone hot and fun, but her love for Robb only turns romantic over the course of the main storyline (for the best, given the age difference; no need to take after Unvle Euron). Robb is saving himself for marriage, but he has probably been marinating in hormones and yearning since he was twelve. And the poor boy has no one to talk to about it, while the love of his life is merrily taking randoms to bed (unless...Jon? We haven't seen much of him in this story, because Quen doesn't care, but did tweenage Jon notice Robb looking at Quen's legs?).

4) The potential in-law dynamics! You develop Quen's relationships with her family so much that it actually startled me to realize that Robb hasn't met any of them. Frankly, it is his turn to suffer. Quen has been living with Catelyn for a long time already. I am extremely eager to see him Asha, but Dagmar even more so. That's basically his wife's dad, but does Robb know that? And once they are all living together, he is short of a father now. Dagmar is so different from Ned, who is really *the* model of a man and a father for Robb, that their interactions have to be interesting. Plus, your story has really made Alannys a real woman, that I really look forward to having her bounce off new people. Like I said, it's Robb's turn to be uncomfortable with his mother-in-law!

In short: fantastic, I love it, thank you for continuing!

You're so incredibly kind ❤️ I'm glad you've enjoyed this story!!

#1: I LOVED getting to flesh out the Iron Islands. I have a similar dislike of "Starks = good, Greyjoys = bad" Theon stories, where Theon would never have been accepted on the Iron Islands or had a good life, which is just ridiculous. I think it's a lot more interesting if Quen had the option for a happy on the isles, either with Alannys at Ten Towers, or as Lady of Hammerhorn with Greydon Goodbrother. That way, it's a hard decision that she has to make, and it ends up being a bizarre combination of "selfish/selfless" ("selfish" for the impact her northern ambitions/loyalties will have on her mother, "selfless" for the personal sacrifice she's making to secure a better future for the ironborn).

I've really tried to be fair to the ironborn, as GRRM's writing of them left a lot to be desired IMO (basically vikings, except with all of their interesting, non-violent cultural aspects stripped away). We get to see some of the northern lords' individual personalities, but the ironborn lords in canon just seem to go along with whatever Balon/Euron decides, which is, quite honestly, lame. So it was a ton of fun to explore a bunch of different ironborn characters and locations.

To me, the ironborn are not uniquely evil/brutal, but chapter 38 will make it clear that they're definitely not nice, either. In the same way, I'm trying to avoid portraying the north as straightforwardly "The Good Guys". I think the Starks as individuals are well-meaning, but war always means devastation and I don't think the smallfolk who have been brutalized give two shits about getting justice for some random northern guy that got beheaded (sorry Ned).

#2: I love her too ❤️ I really tried to keep as many elements of Theon's core personality as possible, whilst also balancing the inherently transformative nature of genderbending. Being born a different sex in a world like Westeros changes so much about that character's experiences that I really had to reflect on who Theon would be within the experience/expectations of manhood.

Fandom also really does underrate Theon's strengths (which is, as you say, veryyy understandable given his complete flop of a storyline in ACOK). But he does have strengths! Like Theon, Quen is (somewhat) clever, ingratiating, funny, bold, inventive, ambitious, etc. I can't remember who described Theon as "hungry to live", but I think that's the perfect description of him/Quen as we see them starting in AGOT.

#3: Anything with Robb & Quen were always some of my favorite scenes to write. It was important to me that they be friends first, and that Robb really had his own arc where he came to understand the power imbalances at play in their relationship. There's such an ease and a comfortability to their relationship that they both desperately need(ed), and that will return in the late-game of this fic.

I also thought it was important to portray Robb as someone who has significant and noticeable flaws. Quen's flaws are pretty apparent (to say the least), but Robb also has a tendency to lash out, to take loyalties/forgiveness for granted, to bottle up his feelings, to disappear into his responsibilities to avoid difficult emotions/circumstances (as we'll see in chapter 39).

For Quen, sexual feelings are easy and of no consequence. Romantic feelings (specifically for Robb) on the other hand... well... Let's just say that Robb has had some ten years to come to terms with his feelings, but it's still very new to Quen. She went down the Romantic -> Sexual -> Oh Fuck I'm In Love With Him pipeline at break-neck speeds.

Unfortunately, I'll have to keep my silence on Jon (as he will have a Part To Play), just know that we'll see more of him later on ;-)

#4: TeaInABowl has me FERAL about the potential of a Greyjoy-Harlaw-Stark family sit-down. I don't wanna spoil things, but there will be some intersection of Quen's northern and ironborn relationships in chapter 40, just not in a particularly fun context (but it's not as ominous as I'm making it sound). There will probably also be a real ironborn-northman sitdown later on, and I'm sooo excited about it.

Alannys hates Robb's ass for real (and I imagine her and Catelyn get along like oil and water too), but I think Asha and Robb would at least be united in Wanting Quen To Be Happy. Asha's not necessarily happy about it herself, but she'll have to make her peace with it. Again, I don't wanna spoil, but I imagine Dagmer as joining Quen's household at Winterfell in the eventual happy ending. That's her dad!!! And, like Asha, I think he would have a lot of guilt/anger for leaving Quen alone at Winterfell in the first place.

Anyway, thank you so much for taking the time to leave such a wonderful ask!!! Chapters 38 and 39 are done (pending beta-ing, yippee!), and I'll be cranking out the rough drafts for chapters 40 and 41 over the next two weeks. All goes well, I should be back March 10th with at least 4 weeks of chapters for y'all!

#ask #unfortch i will be pretty busy these next few days catching up on school work. i've got stuff due sunday that i have NAWT even started #then it's back to the chapter 40 trenches 🫡#i love this fic and i love you guys <3 <3 <3

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rise-my-angel · 8 months

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Heart of the Great Wolf got me SOBBING bro, your writing is immaculate 🫡🙏🏼

PRAISE MAKES ME ANXIOUS

Do you like read more cus I put a read more on this one cus as per usual my response turned into this:

I am deadass so nervous because I am like 15 chapters written in advance right now, so everyone's being so kind about chapters I wrote like over a month ago and now I'm so nervously rereading my new ones worried they'll be disappointing.

What was essentially the Robb era of hotgw has come to an end, and we're about to enter the Jon era and a lot of my favourite parts of this series are in these next unreleased chapters. A lot of set up in the first 15 chapters has been building up to so much of what's going to start playing out and I can't help but feel nervous everytime yall are so nice. Because now I'm entering that prime era of:

"Remember when Game of Thrones was really good then it started going downhill and everyone ended up hating it?"

Now I'm looking at what is much more going to be more original not show/book dependent content and I'm like: WHAT IF THEY HATE IT WHAT IF IM JUST AS A DISASTER AS SEASON FUCKING 7.

Also I mean kudos to yall still sticking with it because this fucking series is so long. I just finished chapter 30 on Monday and I still am on what would be the plot equivalent of early season 7. I still haven't actually gotten to fucking winter yet. (Which to be fair plays out a lot different then the show so it's not going to be even comparable)

And the Jon era of the series starts having more flashbacks and other povs (granted typically those chapters are longer to make up for it), and a lot of scenes are what I call classic season 1-4 GoT scenes which are mostly just quiet dialouge that doesnt necessarily move the plot forward but are necessary for character development, world building, and narrative themes and foreshadowing.

That and I'm in the era of "Jon was fucking abysmally mistreated and miserable in the show by this point" so my Jon frame of reference is so skewed by bad characterization I'm worried he comes off as out of character. Whereas other characters I'm immensely proud of my work such as my character work for Theon Greyjoy, Selyse Baratheon, and Olly specifically. I really love the work I put into what I think was really bad late show (season 5 fof Selyse, season 6 for Olly, and season 6 - 8 for Theon) and yet I'm also finding writing Jon to come so naturally to me yet I'm worried I somehow will do worse then..

Also I start really cementing certain positions I hold now, especially in regards to hot topics such as my opinions about Jon being a rape victim of Ygritte, my opinions on the subject of dragons and Targaryean restoration, stuff about Robert's Rebellion I've purposely ignored, and I start including a very specific book plot ignored by the show and can only hope show only or show preferring fans will not get taken out of it for those plots being used instead of certain show ones.

I'm just really passionate about asoiaf and early Game of Thrones I always have been and finding the motivation to write 30 chapters of like an average of 11k each for a fic is insane to me and its baffling anyone still reads it let alone likes it.

But it's my favorite series I've ever done, I think about it pretty much non stop, all day everyday. If I'm not writing I am actively outlining and brainstorming and rewatching and re reading the show and books to make sure I have a grasp in this world and its characters in a fair manner. asoiaf/GoT was one of the biggest influences on my musing influences and direction as a fiction writer. It has always been more special to me then I've talked about (mostly because during its prime peak I was in high school and college and was not terribly active in fandom due to work load) and then when I got back into it it was after the final season and all anyone wanted to talk about was how bad it got. I look at the final 3 and a half (I think season 5 is mostly bad but Castle Black is a great storyline right up until the comedy that is dumb and dumber just ending the Baratheon storyline for good cus it was between writing Euron "Bick Cock" Finger in the Bum, or writing a real storyline for one of your moat interesting morally grey characters that was post blackwater Stannis) but I like figuring out why it's bad and where it could have taken those ideas to make them work and a lot of that meta became aspects of hotgw, and its essentially an extension of what I love about this series regardless of the bad.

This went on for a long time for no reason, JUST LIKE MY HOTGW CHAPTER LENGTHS-

#its not even 11am why do i always answer asks in the morning when my brain is going 800 km per second

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waitingforwinterwinds · 1 year

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Sew Long, Fair Well - 01 SANSA (pages 01)

Sansa makes a final sacrifice for her people, and wakes to discover she's made a deal with a god.

The years of war, and the sheer number of their combined forces, the sheer appetite of the dragons, everything had put too large an impact in their reserves. Her people were going to starve before the new crops could be grown to harvest, before the animals could breed and mature enough for culling, the glass gardens were still in ruins, and winter still upon them. Spring hadn't magically come sweeping in when Arya had slain the Night King, the Long Night hadn't mystically given way to the spring dawn.

That's actually something I'll be interested to see when we reach it in the books, how the resource situation is, because with the wars, and The War, resources are going to be so low, I have concerns about the post Long Night survival rates.

“Please,” she asked, “if you know of any way to save my people, please tell me how, please help me save my people.” “What are you willing to give up for them?” It was a test, Sansa knew, and thought of rough hands on her skin, thought of all she has lost, and all she had fought for with whatever she could. With words and looks, and favours and lies, with the blood of others and with her own. “The last thing I have left to barter with,” Sansa told him, hoping it was enough, “the last thing I have which is rightly mine to give away.”

“That's-Not-Bran” Theory at play here. I do kinda like that one, just for the fridge horror aspect of it. I also like the “rightly mine to give” mentality when characters deal with eldritch/ancient beings, cause you could give them anything, including the life of another, a thousand other lives, but where's the personal sacrifice in that. (Also it makes you look like an asshole.) This one showing us just where Sansa's priorities lie, it's not just about the building, it's about the people in it

“Down through the crypts, until the tunnel turns into a cave. Down through the cave to the heart of the hot springs, where the waters of Winterfell are born. Until there's nothing left to give.”

You know, I have now read two fics with Sansa Time Travel that feature the hot springs in the tunnels under Winterfell as the medium for said time travel. Two different types of time travel, mind you, but I see any more and it will officially be a pattern.

In her mind, she could see a golden light flowing through Winterfell, spilling out into the surrounding lands. It was like watching a flower slowly blooming. Sansa vaguely felt herself slip completely below the surface of the hot spring, but she didn't care, didn't fight it. She wasn't sure if she was dreaming, or if she was truly witnessing a miracle, but these were her last moments, and Sansa chose hope.

This would have been such a tough ask though, after everything Sansa survived, after everything that didn't kill her, after everything lost and regained, for her to have this presented as the saving move, when she can't even trust the source it came from, like, not really. For all she knows, That's-not-Bran just wants her out of the way so he can take over.

Anyway, the world is much nicer when people choose hope. (Nicer still when hope pays off.)

Sansa?

Yes, that was right, she was Sansa Stark of Winterfell And she was dead. Were the dead allowed to play games?

“I won't tell if you don't.”

ngl, that made me laugh.

Fun? That sounded nice. Sansa missed nice things, like lemon cakes, and her family, and practising her sewing. It had been so long since she'd last embroidered anything... No, that wasn't right, there had been a wolf... for Jon .

🍋=🥛

She was a child. She was a woman grown. She'd never left Winterfell. She'd been to King's Landing and the Eyrie, she'd even visited The Wall. She was in love with the idea of love, and couldn't wait to be a wife and mother. She was jaded, married twice, and revolted by the idea of sharing any man's bed. She was Sansa Stark of Winterfell. She was Sansa Stark of Winterfell. A summer child. She'd seen the Long Night. She'd died for her people and now she was either in heaven, or she'd had a second wish granted. She was home, and safe, and she had a chance to fix everything.

I feel like I don't see it enough in fanfics, but I do enjoy the use of formatting as a storytelling aid. Like this section, how the two versions of Sansa are put on opposite sides, and then the center alignment to show that the two versions were separate have melded into one being. (tumblr doesn't like left center right alignments, so I've indented the right aligns.)

People format their fics in different ways and some of them are good, and some of them are one paragraph of 8,000 words. This fic has a lot of 1-2 sentence paragraphs. I know one author, different fandom, and I love their premises, but my gosh, there's an epidemic of people who have never heard of “new speaker, new line,” and they are one of them.

GRRM doesn't always start a new paragraph whenever someone new starts talking, and sometimes he'll let someone start talking at the end of a paragraph, but he never really has two or more people speaking in the same paragraph, where readers get confused because you start reading the second voice assuming it's the first. Sometimes he has the speech tag before the spoken line, instead of after, he actually does a really good job of keeping an easy to read flow with conversations and he has a good balance with the speech tags themselves.

...Sansa just accidentally Blood Magicked the mystery Embroidery Hoop. In her defense, as someone who has dabbled with embroidery, can confirm: those needles are freaking sharp. Fiber arts are hardcore, I have such mad respect for anyone who can do them.

The Hoop was on the ground before her. Sansa looked back at her table, where the hoop was not. She picked it up again, and put it back on the table. She turned to dress, and the hoop was back on the ground before her. Huffing, Sansa picked it up again. This time when she put it on her table she said, partly pleading, “at least let me get dressed before I deal with you.” She stepped back, eyes on the hoop. It stayed where it was. … In all honesty, if Sansa hadn't been through what she'd just been through, she would have been freaking out over the hoop far more.

Good of her to acknowledge that she's either having a mild disassociation, or has been struck by the blasé attitude stick a few too many times. Look, don't get me wrong, “nothing can phase me” is a fine personality type for a girl to have, but when all the only -female-characters have it, it starts to grate. Like how “snarky, sarcastic, he'd be an asshole if he weren't so cute, clever, and charismatic” became default male protagonist personality for a while th- … actually I think they're still doing that one.

...../ HELP \ .../ I've made a deal with \ /an Ancient God, and now I \ | don't know what to do! | .\ (Slide finger from right to / ...\ left to turn to next / .....\ page) /

'Oh,' Sansa thought, feeling a little faint, 'so that was real.'

Apparently. Don't worry, I hate when that happens to me too. (Also I shudder to think how long it took to do the console format every time.)

So I actually had the message box open and was going to fire off a message to see if @redwolf17 would be cool if I did The Weirwood Queen for this, but then I thought “if my review curse* triggers, I will be devastated, everyone will be devastated!” So I picked one that's been on permanent hiatus for... three and half years? Oh wow, I didn't think it had been that long. Time is an illusion.

Anyway, I have author permission, and I'm even allowed to be as mean as I want. Oh, the evil that could unleash >:3c (I've fiddled with the formatting slightly, just because the layout in the og is very... laid out.) This fic is also more GoT than ASoIaF, sorry, but I poorly worded the fic option in the poll and no one gave me recs.

*I have this unfortunate curse where if I review a fic that's still in progress, something happens and the author drops the fic like 86% of the time. It's not because I'm mean or anything, I don't go for the writing jugular, it just. happens.

Happy April Everyone!!!

#sew long fair well #sansa stark #a chapter a day reading #april fools book swap

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just-an-enby-lemon · 1 year

Text

Silly DC Rogues + Scooby Doo incorrect quotes/concepts:

The Rogues adopting different members of the gang. It starts with Jonathan Crane meting Velma on a psychology seminar, than Riddler finds Fred in a trap convencion, Joker (or Harley pick your poison) goes buy a new lipstick and ends up bonding with Daphne, Scooby and Shaggy either became budies with Penguin after going to eat at the Iceberg or with Condiment King.

-/-

Batman: Scarecrow is too quiet lately I bet he is plotting some terrifying squeme.

*meanwhile at Jonathan Crane's hideout"

Scarecrow: Oh please, child, you can't do that to me. That's cruel.

Velma: You know the rules. No kidnnaping pleople or throwing fear toxin on places for a month or we will not let you study Shaggy and Scooby fear responses!

Scarecrow: Fine.

Velma: Now, Doctor Crane, I want the toxin canister I know you are hinding right now.

Scarecrow: You are lucky to be my favorite student, young lady. *gives her the vial*

Velma: All of them

Scarecrow: Fine. *gives her another ten hidden vials of fear toxin he had in his coat*

-/-

Velma: Er... I know this might be akward but I feel we bonded since last time we met and I wanted to ask you something.

Scarecrow: I didn't kill him, he died of fear naturaly.

Velma: Jinkies!!!!! I just wanted date advice.

Scarecrow: Oh?

Velma: You see I like this girl, a lot, abd I want to try to ask her on a date or something ... but... the problem is ... she is a villan and you are a vilan so I'm thinking maybe...

Scarecrow: Hm. Another villain. Maybe you should ask Harley. Unless she is really obnoxious, green and keeps asking annoying questions I have no idea how to help.

Velma: I think I'm the obnoxious one, asking all the questions? I mean I get really nervous when we are together so I end up talking a lot but not making much sense.

Scarecrow: Well if you are the obnoxious one, wich for what I know of you is highly doubtfull but I suppose not impossible, you can always build her a nice weapon, talk about how you are the best person ever to the point she may end kissing you so you shut up and look cute when scared.

Velma: I don't get scared. Nor talk about being the best.

Scarecrow: There is the weapon.

Velma: Wouldn't build a weapon to a villain be a bad thing?

Scarecrow: Since when do I care, Miss Dinkley?

Velma: Fair. But I do.

Scarecrow: In this case build something that can help her recover for potential injuries, crime is a very dangerous job.

Velma: That's actually really helpfull! Thanks, Doctor Crane!

Scarecrow: Only trying to help my best student, Miss Dinkley!

Velma: About that did you finish your studies on Shaggy and Scooby?

Scarecrow: Oh yes! They are fascinating!

*Velma and Jon start geeking out over chemistry and brain readings*

-/-

At Gotham's Annual Trap Convention

Announcer: This year the trap making competition will be done in duos! A special change to spice the ten years aniversary of the Traps Club of Professional Trapers and a way for us to make new trap themes.

Fred: Oh nice. Who wants to team up with me?

*no one says nothing*

Fred: Please? Gotham has the best trap convention I always wanted to win it's annual competion. Help a kid with their dreams!!

*is ignored*

Fred: : (

Riddler: *also didn't got a team mate because he is annnoying as heck* Riddle me this, ascot weirdo, the less you have the more they are worthy?

Fred: Uh... Scooby Snacks? Scooby normally recquires two or more to do really dangerous things but when it's for the last one he is super kean.

Riddler: What? *looks around* *everyone else already has a team* Fuck. Fiiine. You are stupid! Most people are but still you are impressivly dumb.

Fred: Thanks, my dad says the same thing.

Riddler: ...

Riddler: Dads! *rolls his eyes* As I was saying do wanna team up?

Fred: Sure!

Riddler: I never lost one of those so I want to make very clear to you beforehand that I expect a high perfomance.

Fred: Of course. All my traps are prefectly made! I'm a profissional, not like those two people over there using mapple to build an estructure that should totaly be made of oak.

Riddler: You are... actually right. And what the fuck are those knots? Do they want to fail? Honestly I bet they are Joker's men.

*They of course win the competition and become buddies*

-/-

*in a different universe*

Riddler: *shaking* PLEASE DON'T TAKE ME BACK BATMAN! *terrifield* I wasn't even comiting any crimes. I'm totaly clean! A new honest man. Please please Batman.

Batman: I'm sorry but you did escape from Arkham.

Riddler: Okay, okay, sure... I can go to Blackgate! Or Belle Reave. Or any other Asylum. Or solitary. I escaped. Yeah. I'm really evil Batman take me to solitary please.

Batman: I don't understand. What's going on with you? *concerned* Are you being abused? You can trust me.

Riddler: No. Not more than normal. It's fine. The problem isn't the guards or the doctors, I just can't come back to him.

Batman: *they are alredy on Arkham* Him?

Guard: Oh thank god you brought Nygma back his cellmate was really distressed.

Riddler: whimpers

Batman: Cellmate?

Riddler: *on his knees* Please please anything but him.

*they got to the cell*

Guard: *ignoring Ed* Yeah, the new guy, he is a transfer for center state, a total loony.

*Bruce looks to the cell to see a guy with a colorfull full of glitter hand puppet. He moves the puppet*

Professor Huh? (via puppet): Hi Eddie, I missed you! I can't banana drive to the mom alone.

Riddler: *hides behind Batman* This doesn't make any sense! *hyperventilating* Go away!!

Batman: Calm down, Nygma, what's the problem with your cellmate?

Professor Huh? (via puppet): Batman? My son likes you! Let's fly with a papper pane to show him a picture!

Batman: Of course! Just a second.*turns back to Riddler having a panic attack* Okay, Edward we are going to go to a different cell and you are going to tell me what is the problem.

Riddler: o-o-okay y-you pro-promisse I won't see *trembles* him?

Batman: Yes.

Riddler: He... He is weird! *Batman raises an eyebrown* You are just like the others!! You don't understand. You need to take me seriusly!!! He is... He is different from us... He scares me, Batman! He only speaks with the creepy puppet and he makes no sense! He never spoke a logical sentence in his life! His answeres to my riddles are soo abstract and it makes me question everything and he... he took my eyebrows with a croissant and put them on my shoulders once *shivers* that... that's insane? I'm not crazzy! It happened but it makes no sense! He makes no sense. He defies logic Batman. He sees order and he breaks it. I.. I need order, Batman!!!!

-/-

*back to our normal programing*

Riddler: Aha! We did it! We catched Batman.

Fred: Wait? Batman? I understood we were supposed to catch Mothman! Why would we catch Batman? He is a good guy.

Riddler: *who just stoled a museum in front of Fred hours ago and it's dressed on his full riddler costume* I'm a supervilan?

Fred: Hahaha. That was funny. Now let's catch Mothman.

Riddler: ????

Fred: *gives a lost puppie smile* You know I always wanted to catch Mothman with my dad... *blushes* Er... I meant with you! Yeah I always wanted to catch a cryptic with my good friend Mr. Nygma who I don't see as a dad at all haha.

Riddler: .... fine... *opens the trap* Sorry, Batman. We were trying to catch Mothman this time.

Batman (Dick, Bruce had a small emergency involving Alfred's niece Daphne) *confused* What?

Riddler: Don't ask me.

Batman (Dick): *sarcastically* Yeah, yeah, you are the one who asks questions. C'mmon Nygma let's go back to Arkham.

Riddler: *fake sweet smile* Okay *presents his hads to be handcuffed* Buuut you will have to be the one to the him we are not going to catch Mothman. *evil smile*

Batman (Dick): Er... Hi kid?

Fred: Batman! Me and my friends are huge fans. We also solve mysteries.

Batman: Nice? Look your monster hunter partner is actually a dangerous criminal.

Fred: Velma? I know she sometimes uses her evil scientist voice but she is a sweetheart.

Batman: No, the other one.

Fred: Daphne? She only breaks the bones of the people who deserve it! She also sometimes commits identity fraud but I wouldn't call that dangerous criminal behavior just kirky.

Batman: Uh, not her either...

Fred: SHAGGY AND SCOOBY? Are you insane Batman!! They are lovely people. The most they can do it's steal your sanduiche but they are really nice about it.

Batman: I was more by the lines of Riddler.

Fred: Who is Riddler?

*at this point even Edward is in shock. He never told Fred he was Riddler but it should be a given*

Batman: Nygma?

Fred: Oh! Uncle Eddie is not a dangerous criminal he is too weak and silly.

Riddler: Hey!

Fred: Sorry? But I saw you be bitten by an ant and cry over it.

Riddler: *blushing* I... It hurted.

Batman: *snickers*

Riddler: *whispers* you are not convincing no one Nightwing

Batman: *also whispering* fuck you, Nygma

Fred: See totaly not a dangerous criminal. Besides he isn't dressed as a monster.

Batman: I suppose.

Fred: *puppy eyes* So can you let us go back to hunting Mothman.

Batman:... Sure. Stay safe citzens *whispering* you better not doing anything bad, Nygma

Riddler: *whispering meancingly* or what?

Batman: *whispering* you gonna break the kids heart *throws him back at Fred wich results on him failing to floor*

Riddler: ouch. That was unecessary! *Batman has already disapeared*

Fred: *helping riddler up* I didn't know Batman was such a funny guy! You are dangerous criminal haha.

Riddler: *trying not to sound offended* Let's stop talking about it and go catch Mothman, alright.

-/-

In a more serious universe P.I Nygma actually meets the gang as he is hired to investigate a missing person case related to the "monster" Mystery Inc is investigating. (If in my college au he does warns them about Professor Crane before leaving saying something about nigthmares on Arkham)

-/-

Daphne: Oh dear, no! Don't buy this shade of lipstick.

Joker: Do you know who I am?

Daphne: Yes, you are the famous serial killer and supervilan Joker and you are going to look awfull with this.

[alternativally]

Daphne: Oh dear, no! Don't buy this shade of lipstick.

Harley: Wow, you're that monster hunter kid! I saw a video of you guys on youtube! Nice.

Daphne: I saw a video of you on YouTube as well! I've been crazy to ask your make up brand because I need to be able to do moves like that without messing mine up. Also can I ask how did you learn that cool half-flip head kick? I've been practicing a lot but I think is not quite right yet.

-/-

Alfred is the creator of the Scooby Snacks. He also has to hide the kitchem because Scooby and Shaggy eat all the food. That being said he does like how apreciative they are.

#not beta'd #not edited #this is silly #dc and scooby doo #i have more from where this comes from #scooby doo #batman

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