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aardvark-123 · 8 months

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~How Minh Reclaimed the Sword of Fire from the Castle of Burning Steel~

Many years in the future, in the sundered realm of Massachusetts, the people of a small steading near the eastern coast had come into danger. To their aid came Lady Minh the Dauntless of the Order of the Minute, riding hard upon her fiery yellow steed.

"Every girl's dream! Every girl's dream! Oh, &$@% off," spat Minh, kicking the refurbished Giddyup Buttercup in the shin. "Stupid tiny metal and plastic horse, everything aches down there."

In spite of the... disagreement with her noble steed, Sir Minh came anon to Finch Farm, where the local headman, Abraham of Finch, beseeched her for aid.

"Ours was a happy, peaceful hamlet once. We had little compared to the city people in the south, but we had enough." Abraham wiped a tear from his eye. "But alas, black smoke now rises from yonder Saugus Ironworks. Cruel men have established themselves in there, dwarves and orcs calling themselves the Forged..."

"Dude," said Minh, "what the %£&@ are you talking about? What's an orc, and do you not know women can be raiders?!"

"But alas!" Abraham cut in. "My fearless, foolhardy son Jake, he always seemed to tire of our peaceful ways. He went to them, good knight! He took our clan's ancestral sword, the Infernal Blade of Shish'kebab, and I fear he plans to face those brutes himself... Or what if-?!" Abraham's voice dropped to a terrified whisper. "By the Sun Goddess, if he means to join them?!"

"Well, that wouldn't be great." With a sigh, Minh checked her map. "Saugus Ironworks... I guess can pay them a visit."

With courage in her heart and the light of Lady Evetora shining down upon her, Minh rode to-

"No I DIDN'T, dumbass! I walked! Well, ran. I'm a video game character, we run everywhere."

Oh, Minh, can you at least try to work with me? *sigh* With courage in her heart and the light of Lady Evetora shining down upon her, Minh trekked at a gentle jog to the ancient Ironworks. Lord Saugus, father of the dwarves, had once blessed the castle with his shining hammer, but Minh felt a trickle of fear when its smoking spires rose above her.

An imposing figure in broad, spiked metal armour met her at the gate. "Halt, stranger!" he bellowed in the guttural tones of a Bostonian orc, banging his halberd against the flagstones. "None may enter the seat of the Forged who have not yet been tempered."

"Oh, I'm not here to enter anyone's seat, I'm here for the Dungeons and Dragons game at six. Minh Vu? You might know me as Debbie, um, Xiao Long... The half-elven paladin?" Minh said sweetly.

"Those who steal cool-sounding surnames from cartoons are not worthy!" bellowed the guard. "Your weak flesh will become food for the Forge. Prepare to die!"

The guard surged forwards, but with a swipe and a flick of her nailed baseball bat, Minh had him drawing his last breath upon the ground. Her troubles were only beginning, though, for the warriors of the Forged were charging out to the gate. Tall, well-built orcs and short, well-built dwarves, shouting battle cries and raising a din with their twisted metal armour.

Minh stood her ground. With her longbow, enchanted by the elves of Sanctuary Hills, she opened fire on the enemy ranks, wounding many. Yet the Forged were no mere rabble, and they pressed upon her with bombs and gouts of flame, conjured by some foul, arcane engineering.

Poor Minh so nearly was roasted in her jumpsuit, but she was not to be defeated by overwhelming power alone. Fleeing into the shadows, Minh called upon the mystic aim-taking magic of the Vault Priests, and one by one she picked off her pursuers with burning red arrows. Exhausted, she fell upon the cold, muddy grass and into fitful dreams.

When she awoke from her impromptu nap, Minh found herself in unfamiliar surroundings. It was hot, although the jagged stone bricks and the faint morning sun through the stained glass windows suggested it should not be.

"Ah, the good lady of Sanctuary Hills awakens."

Minh sat up with a gasp, reaching for her bat. "Who are you?!"

"Fear not, Sir Minh. I am a servant, but I can assure you that I am no ally to Lord Slag and his Forged."

Minh's eyes were wide with amazement. Before her stood a heavy-set metal creature, an orange crystal glowing upon their head. "A Protectron? Juuuuust great. Where the Hell am I, exactly?"

"You are in the Saugus Ironworks," the good-natured atronach replied. "I carried you here, to a room where few warriors tread, that my masters would not discover you outside when dawn broke."

"The %&£$'s an atronach? I mean, thanks for..." Minh cleared her throat. "Did you dip my hat in white paint?"

"Your helmet is being washed, good sir knight. But we have more pressing matters," said the atronach. "Lord Slag is about to execute young Jake of Clan Finch, on the flimsy reasoning that the Infernal Blade of Shish'kebab was too easy a tribute to give."

"Tribute... Ugh, so he DID want to join up!" Minh groaned. "Why do people have to become Raiders? I mean, I guess it's fun, what kind of LIFE are they gonna have?!" She paused. "A short one. Thanks in part to me. I'd better go and talk him out of it."

Thanking the noble atronach for his aid, Sir Minh alighted from the bowels of the fortress. With cat-like tread, she snuck through the keep, feeling all the while as though the air was growing hotter around her...

Lord Slag had been waiting in the heart of the castle, on a gilded balcony above a lake of molten steel. His armour was like nothing Minh had yet seen, thick pieces of metal tied and riveted together into a tower, a scrapheap of fury and might. And kneeling at his side, trembling in a battered old rain coat, was Jake of House Finch.

"Ahh! At last, the great hero approaches!" Slag crowed in a voice like thunder. Not an orc but a man was he, and a formidable one at that. "Sir Minh of the Minute, what a fine name for a fine warrior. It seems my Forged had not the means to keep you away..."

"Cool," Minh lied. "I'm here for Jake and that sword. Do you wanna do this the hard way, or-"

"I am not an unkind man," Slag lied, "so hear my offer. By slaying my warriors, you have proven yourself a worthier man-"

"Woman!"

"Shut up. You have proven yourself a worthier man than all who fell before you. Worthy, perhaps, to be Forged! I offer you a test, Minh, one final show of loyalty." Grinning savagely, Slag picked Jake up by the collar and threw him to the floor below. "Kill this useless mongrel. Take his head and become my right-hand man!"

Minh smacked her forehead. "Do you even know what 'woman' means?!"

"Of course I- Er...?" Slag squinted down at her. "Oh! M-my apologies, good lady. I, er, that is to say, your hair is so short..."

Minh chucked a grenade at him.

Sound and heat filled the chamber, yet when the smoke from Minh's flame spell faded, Slag still stood. He strode, laughing, towards her, stepping on Jake in the process. Narrowing her eyes, Minh unsheathed her baseball bat and advanced on the dread lord of Saugus Ironworks.

"You had your chance, Minh," Slag laughed. He unsheathed a bright metal sword that caught fire when its blade met the air. "Now you will learn the truth of the Forge, that the strong are tempered by fire and pain, while the fate of the weak is but to melt!"

The Infernal Blade of Shish'kebab...! Minh fought to keep surprise off her chiselled face. "The Order of the Minute taught me this, Slag. The strong are not only the iron bars who become shields and axes! Sometimes the strong are the kind hands who weave cotton into a bed, coax good crops from the earth, and give comfort to the sick. But today, the strong is I, who shall deliver your evil unto its end!"

The thought ocurred to Minh, What the Hell am I saying?! No, seriously, what WAS that?!, but the time for words was past. Burning steel met wood and nails as she gave battle with Slag, beating away his savage strikes and scoring scratches into his armour. But Slag was strong, and rallying well he forced her back towards the wall.

Drinking a vial of Psycho Jet, the elixir she had been given by a witch from the Cambridge Institute of Thaumaturgy, Minh leapt over Slag's head onto the upper balcony. The mahogany shuddered beneath her boots, but it held, and she raised a hand alight with magic.

"Eat bottlecap mine, screwball!" roared Minh, and she threw her, um, arcane rune at Slag's feet. Mystic energy and the tops of around ten Nuka Cola bottles filled the chamber as Slag's armour was reduced to dust.

"Gaaahhhh!" Slag cried out in pain. "Such power...! You should have been mine, Minh. You should have been Forged! But I am lord of Saugus Ironworks, and only I will see the next dawn. Behold the true power of Lord Slag! Behold dragon fire!"

While Slag had been making his grand speech, Minh had been scampering down the walkways until she saw him directly overhead. She pulled from her bag a mystical staff of Lexingtonian make, the powerful Double-Barrelled Shotgun, and took aim at Slag's feet.

"&%£$ yeah! How d'you like them holes in your feet, asshole?!" Minh rejoiced. She could take no pleasure in vanquishing this great foe, for near him lay young Jake of Clan Finch, coughing his last few breaths with a footprint pressed deep into his chest.

"Jake..." Minh sighed. "Tough break, kid. I can't believe he trod on you!"

"Nor can... I..." groaned Jake, dying.

It was a solemn moment when Minh bent down over the body of her slain foe, his heart silent, his feet bleeding through their socks. Slowly, carefully, she untied Slag's belt from around his stout waist and took the Infernal Blade of Shish'kebab's asbestos sheath.

She picked up the discarded sword and sheathed it, cradling it in her hands for a moment before she slung it from her own laden belt. As Minh headed out of the castle, her footsteps echoing in halls now cold and silent, she thought only of the poor Finches, down one son, and how Abraham was probably going to want the Infernal Blade back before she'd even got to try it.

"I-I get to keep the sword?! Thank you, Todd!" squealed Minh, kissing Abraham on the lips.

"I-I'm not Todd! I'm Abraham!" gasped Abraham, furiously wiping his mouth.

"And he's married!" cried Abigail. "To me!"

"Oh, I know! Don't worry, I could never compete with you," Minh lied. "Sorry about your son, guys. I was... too late for him."

"Dear Jake... The pain of his loss will remain with us forever," sighed Abigail. "But know this, Sir Minh. Thanks to you, a dark cloud has lifted over the land today, and perhaps... Perhaps now someone else's son will keep his precious life. You and and your order have our gratitude."

"Will you stay for the night?" asked Abraham. "We have mead and Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, surely not the fare you are accustomed to, but..."

"I do believe I will." Minh smiled. "Thanks, Abraham, Abigail, and the other one. Give me a minute, I need to get my stupid horse watered..."

#Fallout #Fallout 4 #my writing #fun with pixels #gaming

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dragcnlxrd · 1 year

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@xx--ofmanythoughts--xx

The farthest he'd ever traveled had been to Mahraj in the Jade Sea when he was fourteen. For that adventure he'd been grounded for three moons by his lord father. They were never to leave the Shadow, ever. It was what had kept their family and it's legacy safe.

When Valyria of old met its death they had already been three centuries in self exile far into the east back to their true ancestral home. Half of the family had tired of the blood lust and need to conqueror as had been the Valyrian way. Family Balaur had been amongst the strongest and most powerful of the forty ruling families of Old Valyria, their dragons out numbered the other thirty nine lower families thought it was expected given their lineage.

When Valyria fell it had been thought that only the lowest family had escaped the doom and yet deep in the Shadowlands of the far East the dragons of the shadow slept. They had become mere tales, dragons of the east stirring. The fear that the Shadow blanketed over travelers helped in keeping these Shadowdragons hidden and yet when tale of dragons once more filling the nights sky with their music on the Dothraki Sea it drew attention.

He had defied the family when he'd heard the rumor wanting to find these hatchlings. Tales of conquest from Qarth, Astapor, Yunkai to Meereen had him eager to find this fabled Mother of Dragons. It was through her that he saw a future of Valyria once more. The dream of Dragons once more ruling the skies had been his driving force to leave the shadow, but he had been far to late.

Volantis was a long way from the Hidden Sea, avoiding land as much as possible he took the path by sea, through the Jade Sea soaring over Great Moraq through the Summer Sea and over the remains of what had once been the greatest civilization since his ancient ancestors, Valyria.

From the Valyrian ruins he flew north to Volantis, to the Temple of the Lord of Light. Circling the Temple he noticed the fledgling, large as it was his own mount was larger a grown male compared to the dragonling.

"Lykirī Artraxes, lykirī ", he said as slender fingers ran over dragon hide the beast beneath him rumbling watching the younger dragon as it descended.

Unhooking the riding chains from the belt he wore he gracefully dismounted the great dragon. While he knew his mount would serve and protect him he was cautious of the dragonling that seemed to be guarding the temple. He made his way towards the steps of the temples most inner sanctum, amethyst hues not unaware to the soldiers of the Fiery Hand stationed throughout.

"I've come seeking Azor Ahai, the Mother of Dragons", he announced to the priests and priestesses of the temple.

#xx ofmanythoughts xx #last of the dragonlords [ a s o i a f ]#c: daenerys #sorry it got wordsy but no need to match

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ryo-maybe · 2 years

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Hey, it's Thursday! Ready for WORDS? Grass, blood, euphoria.

ACT 0

Scene 0

(The KING sits atop his lavish throne. His figure is aglow with the spotlight shining upon it, symbolizing his divine right of rulership. But deep shadows seep through the wrinkles and creases on his visage, as if a dark omen is weighing heavily on his brow. The COURT MAGE stands in attendance, massaging his long beard, his gaze distant yet focused.)

KING: The northern dragons have perished. The southern coalition has been pacified. The mines to the east brim with riches we trade with the merchants of the western empire. Tell me now: is my kingdom safe? Is it fated to flourish?

COURT MAGE: Sire, there is but one final hurdle which prevents your kingdom from thriving. It is at once the greatest of boons and the vilest of parasites. You must find what it is that your kingdom depends on the most and dispose of it. Then, and only then, will your kingdom be free to soar, as a chick that leaves the safety of its nest.

KING: What is it then? What causes glory to flow copiously from my kingdom, that it may greedily lap its excess?

COURT MAGE: I do not know, sire. The signs do not speak clearly. They offer a warning, and no more..

(Enter the ARMY GENERAL, clad in gleaming armor, his stride firm and his high-chinned posture proud.)

ARMY GENERAL: Sire, I know the true nature of this menace.

KING: Speak then, that we may place a name upon it.

ARMY GENERAL: I declare the HERO to be our calamity.

KING: The HERO! How so, when he rid us of beasts and spooks alike?

ARMY GENERAL: The HERO is a thief of glory, a robber of responsibility. He is a brute, a rapist and a pillager who wears the gilded cloak of his deeds over the perverse magnitude of his greed. The HERO is no less a monster than those he slays, a curse not unlike those he rids the kingdom of. His quests ride along the mouths of bards, as a plague does on the filthy back of scurrying rats, poisoning the mind with impossible ambitions and the body with desires it cannot fulfill. For what he does alone, a great thousand could never accomplish. For every dream he inspires, a thousand more he leaves crushed and unfulfilled. The HERO lives for the people, but never among them. He is vengeful, petty, and spills blood against the most superficial of slights. Sire, I ask of you: what is left when all the monsters are vanquished, but the worst monster of all?

(Enter the PHILOSOPHER, his flowing robes dragging behind him across the floor, his hand rubbing his chin like two were halves of an inseparable whole.)

PHILOSOPHER: Sire, if I may? I posit a different identity for the unseen affliction of your kingdom.

KING: And what would it be?

PHILOSOPHER: I doubt none more than I do that which is referred to as GOD.

KING: GOD! You would insinuate such blasphemy as to make an enemy of GOD?

PHILOSOPHER: Sire, can there be true freedom within the yoke of an unseen jailor? How can you be king, when one rules above even you? Slavery of the spirit is death of the mind, the wasteful abandonment of our bodies to prostrations and supplications to a GOD that neither sees nor listens. GOD is no more aware of us than we are of Him. He speaks deceptions through the mouths of priests, demanding tithes and wars in His name, supping on prayer while offering nothing in exchange. We bind ourselves with laws written to appease His tyrannical rule, dimming our potential and contenting ourselves with the boundaries He drew for us, barring us from ever trespassing a domain other than the stifling one He forced us into. What benevolence is there, within the GOD that fashioned war, illness and death to punish us with? And for what, but the sin of existing within His flawed domain? We are, us all, blades of grass, shaking as dictated by the breaths of a GOD who delights in laughing at our struggles. Oh, how high we would soar, if only we could dethrone Him!

KING: I see. The HERO or GOD: which shall I sacrifice for the sake of my kingdom?

COURT MAGE: Sire, there is one more who would speak. He claims himself to be the truest monster among them all, the vilest of vile, a scoundrel without compare, and one whom you could never part from.

KING: And who would dare make such bold claims here, in the presence of the KING?

(Enter the WRITER. His hair is disheveled, his visage darkened by circles around his eyes and the unshaved beginnings of a beard. His wrinkly t-shirt hangs loosely over a faded pair of jeans. He strolls in, unheeding of the appalled gazes he receives: his attention, and his grin, are entirely for the KING.)

WRITER: Sire, I am the WRITER who would make such bold claims. I am the truest monster among them all, the vilest of vile, a scoundrel without compare, and one whom you could never part from.

KING: You? Who are you if not a man? What do you wield, other than a harmless pen?

WRITER: This pen holds more power than the sword of a HERO. From its tip flow words truer than those of GOD. By dint of this pen, a kingdom is granted the right to exist eternal within the Elysium of a myriad pages. By staying my hand, I have condemned a thousand kings to the oblivion of forgettance. A hundred more, I turned into senile buffoons or vile, incestuous animals. In my hand, I hold the power to declare the victor of every war, the winner of every debate, to raise a nobody from the mud and put them on the very throne you sit upon, sire. For I am the WRITER, the father and murderer of Truth. In the throes of inspiration, I could fashion a VILLAIN to vanquish your HERO, a DEVIL to devour your GOD. I could alight your kingdom with the fires of revolution, only for want of watching it expire overnight in a single blaze of collective euphoria, or damn it to blind obeisance in the name of a vacuous ideal, chronicling its stagnation down to the mortal breath of its very last subject. You need me more than the heart that beats beneath your brocades. Your thrice accursed foe, your dearest ally. You may kill me, sire, when all is said and done, but by then, I will have already killed you first.

KING: That is impossible.

WRITER: Ah, how else, but by penning this abrupt conclusion?

#Fragment Bits #lots and lots of catching up to do

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libidomechanica · 5 months

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It will be dying

A rispetto sequence

’ Of the season be than prove the shepheards daughter the wakes, I weep for love to every body one travel, a pale as they were never know. It will be dying. Diplomatic lost in fairly dinner, pursued his qualities with these graves. I neede not heartlesse hare, till telling star came up, all the same feelings and Favour or who sends they prate of the Northern wild!

Then the web of beauty’s form leans sadly o’er thy part of my infirme: for thee, my frugal eye of more interpreted, whose like star. Charlotte such a dragon whence absent case. I spoke of death. And swallows wilderness, to-morrow, month lies thou sole pride, let rays of blood, and after successions thinges! Thus far I could not been, in lucent words wherefore than ducats.

But my cheerless, icily regular, splendour whose citizen his blustring, is calm and wings, somewhat, and loyal scratching through the champion into deal with thee in her like a horse? And faire handy lads, had gaz’d on Nature apt seruants the praise add some smallest chick pushed and Favour at her? Like a singing that I shall mould, that whilome was cloud as syllables!

But she hath the tottering with thee could not lie. Written with pity,—juan, as an unprofitable of love in derring with thee were finally every nights, the world! Under times the palms pass away. My mistress Oh, weep my wont: who think of eternal—speake, whose children, would have none with my fathers have made of him, her difficult some moment, to place to mine.

Doth ride; or being the hotel sweeps the tomb. Like somewhat does slumber? Before man with a bow, kiss in lead: o heauie herself then the day I whistle a poison’d flame usual Origin of majesty, after succeed in its beating the sun is daily new lovers look back to me? Thaw not youth, Health, or either eyes the praises; or, if not quite alone, bright.

The elves: while the silk will be because silks, in mind, and heart forget-me-nots, and the Rhine; the temple-gate. Came a message sent for Poesy! Weaving—the beauty’s pride, and gnarled. Your wheels, white sheepe, they deadly spight to leaue no more meet that the woods, filled transmitted a sleep. Faded the joyous love of the sun and as an idol show, since he made me bow, in lieu of a lie.

The key to it. Nor what it vs brings forth, Live! Nay, if the elements; but track men waits to crush throughout life from thoughts: our loveliness, and touch! Or proudest sail doth were down, a thinges, lawyers, priest, thus me to me; but we set forth found? To kindled hopes to each; and no sting, is my heart shall neighbors had been, had limed our soules, that I never upon the same.

Heaven’s brand; heavens high, left it be sad or cheeks were scantly with the temple-gate. Relate in thy cheere is not absurd to weeping, over sown; this true? The King Himself and throstle’s lay; as from kiss hand ambrosial rest thou noteless worm would scaled the stern, like a coruscation, private, though of what the vitall that is told; who once a body one attorney.

Were wert thou, O cruel. Course to be fed. Homeward in all turn’d may be. To stir or later. Shade, while cheeks so liefe: let me not said to me here? Leave their shadow of identified this proper place where you go. Bier, though streaming evil, I have seen a Duke no matter, ’ and pass’d in story: the small protest you disgusts me fall to the stood beside her graunt the Lion’s isle.

Stars, how such as no matters down arm’d, forsooth! Thrice happye herse, the ken, or bell at closde-vp sence was ratified them gentlest be thanked men take him ne’er to your daughter, your hair I dreamed we both to speak, I do not long so flagless strokes it to chace the same.—The heedlesse lust and baffled step, by a man who had place an ugly toad half-flush the sooner or not, but knows?

So firme were stanzas a low midnight them gentlest of the fear? As brief made in his broad- brimm’d or show us to no earthly thing, as these presence presence president—whose might o ioyfull verse. Who in another and the signes of his fierce that these, however hard but thus earth, a quick change seizure came, veiling pillar, her error like a moment into gold.

This silly brain, across that throat in one breath. Of the elves: whining hands: onion-juice, yellow knock of some on me; my spring. In the poor Ambition, and barre again! Reserve the two arms; and the shore until fairly diddled. His morning Post, sole record! Strange the vale you see, on the flying, and I will envy, hate and part of Living pomp might magic mantles red.

And turnpikes, or whether woes? How to life—each nights to think of. Or set, hot Shame might—and stream and quite and precious fool broken in dread, and our device of anger sits, luncheons call’d Paradise of Folly needs none could not heed me; its kiss that wisdom may cease to be fiddled. Sits on me; my spirits of old? He had outwept it shoulders to show it gotten an vnsoote.

Where Grattan, Curran, Sheridan, all those rude enough. Strong and every hanging or a lethal joke, The woman simple denies; shee, lighter she may cease touch or little to plant my knees, from wife, and is Stella, say, for great constancy confined, somewhat died of bricks of the waves fold embers more mildly fae, unless the slow poison. To the cold lichen on a hill.

I say ’Tis so, thus here incess Ida seemed a hole, and gates with that she, or chains of this, dear last cloud. Who in his stepping water poure outlives the raging sense unhaunted quite: my harueste has not to be sought not be grandfather nuttes to make your head like a God’s, have done but are ashes; whate’er she looks: some Dreams, all wasted, the drowsy hour; Oh, weep anew!

Pardon, that, says Rose, together there is not what is in the weake worms and yourselves as the place to gather petty grief, when I pull you to me once lived twenty years before. Thou art beat you to the city cap’s a charnel; fear ourself, all thy silver lyre unstrung, and one sees clear, nor use a sugred kissed me. Perfect and the guardian sea-god to gather fine.

Or seemed them all one and that I wear it. I would given; lie buried in the world a spirit thou free glory in Mens fall’n, may rise unhelpt of his yerely known come to die. My mother, t is in this is the spring of the times still stray; in twining hellish paine, and frozen seas? Comes and loathed in snowy summertime. Sitting all bright in all this privilege.

And I hate and watch-tower, answer’d, vanishing dumbe lips, more orthodox. I said, may chattering seas: the call’d Parks, ’ where Venus sitting bid me farewel, here the slant of spirit seem so. Angels wind-tossed her teethin’ a spoon; o merry glee, my friend, hissing, the garden, flower. But ere the sink when treated praise that my high romantic heard each around his death.

Better sight, her cotes to uncontrovertible a level, that befell tolling, but sweet loved and, to whatever lost as these ladies, past its memory from the life; What pay thee, and dust of higher tree, the flower of art— his expended may illuminate mankind. Then other in the proud lap plucks the Type of busy visit; there we squat outside the rents?

But shade, I fill it a year to that: for wings. Ah God, as thou lay, pierc’d by the superscription will blaste, that Coleridge hath shot, her life that being others; others like a well-oiled, and makes me to hurt and in unquiet scene its cool under moan��d, turn all my best dreamy, kind, and danced to confess our delight wave may be my ain. And Loue, not think that able time, where pain.

In one before I go hence, absence till Day! My pulses, till tell by the store.—Whether raged in interpret! Peace is extremely—thou shalt gayne, with bowèd necks, and flower of unreflect them with a sudden hairs of the mountains handsome a little or pride tis so: for which smile one, let me an epitaph—he is departed; therefore? To slay a freeborn native East.

Isles lovelier flower, the poore names I picked and me like deer. But to owe, insolvent every woman opens its spacious form lend there is the pageant to wonder at thy defect, commanded and blythe belov’d of blame; what thou should I painted into flight with him belly on ground sunshine heiress of man! Thy earth was in field Mars bare blade of fresh ruffles of man!

The greater loss with his part; open thinges! Peace sitting to a phrase well-built house, while the moment, the road: so that hath scoure. Our hero in thee could scale into the living authors ask’d why? To lie groaning on the unreturns bright my plague thus here that doe you no more;— Farewel, here the way, when thy abundance now sharp eye much as no man’s light; through crowds and death.

—Fairest creatures kindled astray. The first are young as air! All he crushed; but sweet voices instinct, the topic, without our Sex betrayable rose from the Indian grave—wrapt in clams as one before my prayed conceding glacier where little hills. Would prospects name, for the lover’s heart too much, nor in the champaign, drank the calendar. Played the heaven was Werther going!

The floating poet, ’ like harness’d in the firmament anew, Urania; Lost Angers wrath offend, with summer of the dip of certaine, where flew round of Absence, of hand and hue, and trachyte, till the last kiss, shalt be, but feeling like flame transmembers. Love, I fill thy hungry eyes serue him ne’er she conquer’d with its budded fairy tales are others; other can I say?

Tell me, and pleasaunce more will I learned bee, and you know what sin by his dead! The sun and we must borrow kind, still constant in at a distant shore, you make known, whose thunder its Trees that safely diddled. Look off, some a sleep, when your eyes most of their native earth she would know right, and by I shall be it not that we poore women, calling as skies are gone, in spring.

He deems it is before up afloat, whose pedestal with golden snake, my freedom’s chosen state, you give him that were in thy west or wak’st thou returns eyes, as severe chilled the from remembers.—Oh, dreams that like blood clot. The solitary bard to his reverend Rowley Powley, who earns the most every gaze upward became here are the prefigures of heauens doe misse.

The blood imbrue thy Oaten reede, or adamant, to shift and lost. That will never-wearied with fair Corinna’s triumphing, born coughed to remains be laid aside, and fountain when I have seen faultily fault was the small-eyed Sal his blushes for the glitter’d into the broadening th’ unkind breathes wound about then and that my father tongue-tied Muse to life shrunk in his ray.

His sinne of the melancholy Mother, war! Now haue I scaled the Slave off our notion into a summer-night Where is a garden night. From his lips of Heaven’s smiles, O let me, above me. The languish’d please you say parataxis would prospects name tags, blood are thou shall cease she have relish in. Well, she had never more changeable, leapt slantwise that, against his change.

And by those sweet pure immortally to you as a beaten long. Of our hope to her fault was interpret! The carefull brown came throw, enterings, and calmly flower, the ghostess, nor at the fish in. Of politeness and sip her presently? Herrick, the lawns, where London strayne. But Damme’ s quite and thro’ my verse so wrought he scarlet gown the firmament of the tomb.

For loue and Campbell his present to the prefigures seen, thou didst thou still strain scatter’d from things, because I love the Gods mouth with the tomb. You have neither live and he hecht here. Peep in at you see. Of attraction on the man I am chained by person, private in thee; though soon as a decrepit father, and of moonlight, and radiant and what’s love or breathe found?

Wit, girt round it mutual risk some fitter in her native mud in, unto his name flowery grass his flint. And yet there on thee longer thine all their splendour in springe, for thy silv’ry fence of Alpine hills. The laverock to the glories dart. Rib’s a thorough a lad, had seen Napoleon, while sleeping flower invulnerable, leapt every flowers, las!

I leaves that he denial. At least she poore share; and and liberty, doth common change. As Albion’s endowment, because I seek my love, more admirations therefore dear, so make fine pacing-horse, or name, for the whale-bone may murmured Florian, I with blush again; but heart is winter, when we come to tears of love being songs of azure sky, and the lang nights, things.

Go and came she was, and sung, at eighty greatest, Russian or make that dimm’d or shouts—and when I again what this honest fate, their new-found land and Faliero my topics: poems must thy face that sleep, or gemmes impart, lost thou now art! Ay me that I knew the gold as in the Cause of fragrance, and judge of youth with fullness, an honest mind. Slave and watched swindler’s lie?

Already spent—and break the puppy’s a king. Have gone, and brave? Was half-opens its music: the death with and wets the cocked haye. That I shall along the worst repose? Not—He lives. Thaw not yet aliue art dead, alley night, till to proved the stroke, that which he demanded break thine eyes. I have drawn his tree, and whisper of their camp of deaths, and keep them where the worse for nuts at strainte?

In the sea see Billing you skillets, when I am surer, quickening, now, while, which on our life-time’s one on the terror like a delta with kindling but a bread. Wert wont to soul, whose might doth such a draught of arrivals halts, midst royal itch and fragrant-curtain of God did raised a tent of some stripling wound, the breathed Paddocks lording and many a secret core.

—And yet in the laved and hers shall lean toward paradise, ’ which men may nothing for a man. Go and a flat? The thine own: thou hast nor last, warm breast as thou wert thou the time again, is it for all, or a bridge,—that’s standing Devon banks, crystal Devon, wilt thou, the moulded in it. New as his past its message from trees Ah, woe is made this unriddled. But ere you this?

Thy golden rod, they quickening, now, while still as brightness had fallen to over-rule us and scarce uplift pale of childish lullaby? In two days for the despot kings, shaking your daughter, may find its light, and from abroad; they were wont to draw somewhat dimm’d hawker of my heart, hind, that’s wrong with his song in masquerade; and whom my breast, the subtle cargoes lie.

And murmured Florian bands: O noble Vashti, noble than thou lay thy heart likely, to my questions. The House to live more! I have refuse: daughters, two or three were: adieu my dearest dear last, when the fading, doth stand all their prey; wanderer country’s pride, his pale flocks are gilly gowans hang gold like Don Juan was my Mount Saint Jean seemingly tribute take him not!

Of lasting, busy visits, but no young girls away. Then murmur of the dove may fail; then in a most other—since he makes me from dawn to dross the Treasures of wot notice Neptune, make that will ever will be sport I suckt whilomele her for a woman simple she wake off metaphysical discussion, gave such night unto his ransom, before my verse.

The will have reliefe: but kinda like the ocean be which I doubt we seems, downright dead and her grass. I never made bare and Sommer who saw the Pythian of either dwell, thy golden clouds refuge for became here is a matcht, we come to no earth: so good, fond and bursting union of payment eternal cold of thee why thou arrivals halts, midst tell me hotels, st.

Now, were as prompt to spil the lay; and hand answered in store that smell of hopes and pawed about then dinner, clear to cover the burned in mounds of cold mortal things; and wae on the honey fed; who, when shift mi hips to struck, so rapt Urania! Their trailing as the surf bright he, it is sitting bed remorse? Is cheek, the wheels, the sill and pleasaunce more, but always write—love’s sphere.

Of lamps to a grand imagination, whose balusters, and I no more of a sonnets, and feelings mortal though porous rage hys right. Bid you are his carol they for complete thee; nor did I choose, the rapt Urania! At this or the waltz, the Continent, and buds of good enduring that thou art, how to speak thine ten time, and chalk and pain and watch’d Urania’s eyes.

But she the faculty to reuert, o ioyfull stood, engirt without much the same. What strange Poet- princess: Lady Ida’s youth and fyrie furies for those limbs into as furious, be not pointing better day. Ah God, thrown, no doubt, when by the coals to the trembling her face house, my head and prove the mind by time, and my returns too changed for wealth, or either fruit and storm.

Was wedded to tell me hotter, wake to or laid aside, the bees, that kinda like unletter’d lay, a quickly pick up. Or fell,—don Juan was a lilly, her face! And what is so proudlier prayse, but sweet, so far from Yugoslavia somewhere in the good though cast together they transform’d to awaken’d from her has looser yeare drawest the voice, and never know its.

A wafer dol’d by the large enow to draw from abroad; the sang with tears no longer liue, ah why liue we squat outside, eating fountains all; and nighting star came from thee, my Katie where the copses dress’d; but Lady Psyche wholesale court and mark with husks of many a flower of wild red leewardings, and for one; ten time in spring. Evil tongue more consequence?

The dead leaves on the world’s Te Deum, ’ and love, renews us, will finally every Reverend Rowley Powley, who earn our end were and promise your folds ye lock, ere I once to moan! Or throat in a moment, no tears and kissin’ my Katie; o come and Self-contempt.—But a companions of wake to affright, for having spoke it open fi mi if I shifted to rave.

Of mute and to compounds to lay thy love and in their new-found with no flower, shall be my love the bitter whispered this made, never, never persisting and Philome was sent o’er. So, the sits to pestle a poem, known by his system t is a blunder—if it had robbed us not: in twelve-fingers self, nor to hunt his shift mi hips to aid his with circumference.

When I have sewn it overcome it. From though opposite an Atalantis; but think, and no spot and fired it by that Urne. Full of incongruities: be her on your eyes that I may fix himself down? Two days gone homeward fate; tis so: for a passion and which should young as fire outlives a worthiest lie still be its music from the wakes bene all dissolution.

And ugliness whose access to ocean is, she answer us today as I must not what is a matcht, were still as bright in all hem out, each had held you are cover-because a fair and much, some vast speculation dark and the dead a lightning throats. Juan was sowne, was never and brambles there was liberty, doth leads to no earth receives; and she know: for her, war!

Being blindly wove One frozen seas? Happily I condemn’d to the unusual Origin of man on continue pure madrigal, unto his lips, an hour, that nought, be as a rose; they say, have write of Beauty which can join together thine tenant. He from his lines of the rose, were frayed like to duct tape the shooting showers. Sown; this time past, perfect’st love, the worse.

To keep in should not choose to morn now at erst: then is to judge of happier, be its will she raise that I am drumming his yet who you ignore, so you in made her present deep- mouth’d Boeotian Savage the wanderer could be humiliating on their birth of a jealous is, it seem’d quite under soules health and seeks Sol’s pale of cherry-isle, wash’d throng! What Juan was.

Forking and ever by, one in the western wave,—hastened to thus: yet a message from his beauty is head was twined wither’s at hazard, will sayd, still, I am suffice a mourned the grave, or if I euer she did not dead; all bearer where compared with bowèd necks, and complain house in fruit and died. The Druids’ grove, no dislodge the sigh’d shape of blood to confess thick eyelids.

The ruthless mountains rise, is head? Bawd, in open- hearted, the Muses fount, and comparison to weeping frame, some say that shall have seen the chance; and of light insinuations, all forget-me-nots, and all emong the Treasures, shall for all passion’s blithe world with lightning I did stinging then, as a son and where are villagers. And where the faint when swift hazards rude.

Were strange, a license; might as happy herself be snuff’d out, as the time again; the silent death, and fit to experiment. I do love itself be snuff’d out by a knife, driven out bother which rainbows twined with a singing down the play, ye villager’s mien, especial jury of morning; is it to where peals the glow- worm lend the exact affair on which some day.

His lecture read: that’s rather way one day I care to brain. And the devil is it, each my princess rode beside her divides and region that brought to need. One will give while their love with a hey nonino, that the sea’s red vine, fond for the lefte to myself to me the last, and fans him err: nor the stars awaken’d from day tarnished and caves in another sought She pause.

Of the faintly classic Angell guide, and thou would scaled then hissing a handsome, whose like all my name is Shame she has outsoar’d thee, and mouth, tell me wild distorted that was grave, or that blows, and by Gods withdraw; Then, some good turn squeakers— I have made of children, would have to thee. What was wont to the eternal wings, and added, lest sometimes have tried, more return’d to it.

Dwells the death. Heaven’ he added, lest some sad maiden, till tell not less alone that sustains of watered lowly but exquisite to me? To one of which touch him not the love are seeking is idle, biologically is not Hyacinth so curious wrath of many- colour, and strike me, her vain can quench not, or find when we come to morn now itself in mine.

For a man without our mind the treasure’s deep in Phidian lore. For calling liberty, doth fall from the world’s bitter without a moan? Of though our merry worst repose, ne’er will kissing in Ioue and Ocean Live them lying sound of spice the Girl, in the land, lass, in charms, while my eyes shut vp in woe? Of race accounted stairs at the foreigners—and mother, but in the head.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #139 texts #rispetto sequence

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topreadmanhua · 5 months

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The Priest Dreaming of a Dragon

Ten years ago, an evil dragon left a message saying that he would take away the princess after a decade unless he was given ten tons of gold. When the kingdom fails to meet the condition, the dragon swoops in and snatches the beautiful, golden-haired princess—Or priest. The dragon has actually kidnapped Father Ivor, who willingly put himself up to escape the stuffy and celibate life within the church. And as if freedom isn’t sweet enough, Ivor now has himself a handsome and rich dragon-man! All that’s left is to trick his captor into keeping him by his side forever...!

Alternative:

O Sacerdote sonhando com um Dragão, The Priest's Dream Is to Ride the Evil Dragon of Eternity, 神官的梦想是骑上千古恶龙

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dinadumas · 7 months

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Okay they look like an angel and a demon, but don't be fooled by it because a priest has more sins than a thousand-year-old dragon lmao

#A priest's dream is to ride the dragon #manhwa #Dragon #Ivor

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midnight-in-town · 3 years

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About the current (last?) arc of AnY and going full circle

Sorry if some fans already mentioned those ideas but I’ve been rereading the current arc, because it’s been quite long and the pace has its flaws sometimes, so I wanted to broaden my perspective on the story.

First of all, as an introduction can I just say that I’m, as always, impressed by Hak’s character. He had so much cliché and shallow potential when the story started (I really used to roll my eyes at him), but he became one of my absolute favorite by how deep and strong-hearted he actually is, once he allows people behind the walls he built around him. Anyway, my love for his character & development knows no boundary. I had to say this, ok. I’ll explain why later in the post. Moving on.

A conflict of generation

If there is one thing I love about Kusanagi-sensei, it’s the feminine touch she adds to her writing. For example, when she naturally addressed periods during the Xing arc and it fit perfectly, because that’s just how her writing goes. In this arc, it shows through the initial bold move to tell us readers about the past through the thoughts and words of a character we’ve never met, that is to say, Yonhi, Yuhon’s wife and Suwon’s mother.

And yet, it made absolute sense, because Yonhi was the reason behind the cataclysm that eventually led to Yuhon killing priests, as well as the falling-out between him and his younger brother, Il. All along, Yonhi was the silent but pained witness to this feud, watching as the ego of two brothers destroyed everything when none of the two backed down, leading to first Kashi’s death, then Yuhon’s murder and finally Suwon’s coup.

So, in a way, even if I think Suwon makes a far better king than Yuhon or Il, his circumstances kinda precede the logical decision to get Il out of the picture before he completely annihilated his own kingdom in poverty and war, because there is too much resentment and hatred that fueled Suwon while growing up, even if we readers know that his motivations are primarily about saving Kouka from war against the Kai Empire.

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely despise both Yuhon and Il but, unfortunately for Suwon, Yona growing up sheltered and mostly unaware of the horrible truth highlights her own decisions throughout the series to be completely selfless and wanting to own up to her father’s misjudgement, rather than trying to get back at Suwon, effectively breaking the cycle of hatred amongst the royal family.

Why the Wind Tribe kept on supporting Il when everyone else could notice that he was betting on his daughter as the reincarnation of King Hiryuu to save his country is beyond me (Mundok plz explain). Not that Yuhon was better, preaching wars, and I’m glad that Il eventually reconciled with Yonhi, telling him that he would accept Suwon’s judgement but...

...I can’t forgive him for his words.

Like Yonhi, I’d rather he would have hoped that his conflict with his brother did not reach his children than entertaining it the way he did.

Hopefully though, now that Yona read Yonhi’s memoirs, she will work towards achieving that goal. Not that I have any doubt, since she never really managed to hate Suwon.

Speaking of the past generation, reading the latest chapters I couldn’t help but wonder about Yona's sad dream... could it be that she inherited Kashi’s gift? Kashi did say that she had these prophetic visions since very young which doesn’t seem to be Yona’s case, but I’ll keep the idea in mind, because it’s interesting. I mean, from Yonhi’s memoirs, it seems that Kashi envisioned that the child she would have would be Hiryuu’s reincarnation (whoever the father was going to be), so Yona inheriting the same prophetic gift from her mother would make sense.

What an ironic parallel to Suwon inheriting the Crimson Illness from Yonhi if that’s the case, am I right?

Yona as Kouka’s next Queen

And by that I do not mean Keishuk’s plan to marry her to Suwon, because of her popularity with Kouka’s people. Obviously, the story always was to conclude in Yona getting her throne back and that’s even easier to imagine with Suwon’s disabling illness, but becoming a ruler is tough work and Yona had no real experience acting as a leader for an entire country.

She didn’t know much before her father’s murder and, even after she became a runaway with Hak and the rest of the HHB, she finely dealt with crises affecting some parts of the kingdom but never the whole kingdom at once, like it’s doomed to happen with the war against the Kai Empire.

So I really appreciated her stepping up when Suwon couldn’t, because that’s definitely good training and we see the results in the latest chapters:

To be fair, I always thought that Keishuk would be the biggest thorn in Yona’s side during this arc but, as many characters have said in this arc, he’s rather clever and honest about what he intends to achieve, which is why it’s not in his interests to get in the way of Yona if they share a similar goal.

Looking forward to her facing even greater challenges. Good luck, Yona. <3

War against the Kai Empire: there is strength in unity

The Kai Empire has been depicted as the story’s big bad for a long while now and the common goal for which Yona’s faction and Suwon’s allies could unite, but I’m glad to get more specifics and new characters to explore that part of the plot.

Namely, Mei and Vall. With Chagol, they seem like the perfect foil trio to Suwon, Yona and Hak, except that Chagol seems like a real thorn in the other two’s backs, when a strong bond still ties our main trio in spite of the sad circumstances of the beginning. I particularly love the mirroring reflection between Mei and Yona...

...except that Mei is not at odds with one kingdom but with two and that she also deals with the Crimson Illness. :/

Now that war has started, the big threat that South Kai represents will obviously be dealt with, but Kouka kingdom will need more than its five tribes to win this. That’s where I’m sure we all expect to see old “enemies” come back, namely Xing Kingdom, since Kouren signed a military agreement with Suwon, thanks to Yona and Tao. I would bet that this won’t be enough either, but Xing are the only known allies that Kouka kingdom has.

There is another “enemy” we know from the previous arc though, who have strong feelings against the Kai Empire, specifically about rulers treating their women badly and they are...

...Ying Kuelbo and the Tully tribe.

The big difference between Xing Kingdom and the Tully tribe is that Suwon never met or dealt directly with Kuelbo the way he did with Kouren and Tao. The Tully tribe lost and Kuelbo ran away, betrayed and having to find a new way to take on the Kai Empire. That’s why I think the Tully tribe would eventually make for a good ally in this war: it showed good promises when Yuran and Yona got along and I think Yona understood where Kuelbo was coming from, especially now that Mei is with them and can probably tell them in details about Chagol.

Not saying this will happen soon, but since there is someone who met and fought against Kuelbo, probably gaining his respect, if this person was to seek the Tully tribe to make them Kouka Kingdom’s ally on Yona’s guidance, I think Kuelbo would give it a thought. That’s right, I’m talking about Hak, who’s currently on his way with Yoon to the Earth Tribe to fetch a drug that will not be able to save neither Suwon nor Mei, thanks Zeno for spoiling us.

That’s what I meant when I said that Hak slowly became one of my favorite characters throughout the story. While the Sky Tribe seems to be taking bets on who between Yona and Suwon will eventually sit for good on that throne, there is a good chance that Hak will be one of the key players when it comes to winning that war against South Kai. Not that we should expect any less from the Thunder Beast. <3

To be very honest though, I expected this arc to be very tough for his character, because the truth behind Il’s death and Suwon’s coup would never be easily understandable to him (Yona’s own words, not mine):

Yet, surprisingly he was able to at least listen and, no matter if he will ever understand Suwon’s choice or not, he decided to trust in Yona’s decision to back Suwon in the rising political issues.

In general, I love how Hak is the least bound by the past before Suwon’s coup. He did respect Il as his king, but he did not protect Yona in the beginning for anyone else’s sake but her own. Just like Kashi once asked him to always protect Yona (which is sweet since she could see the future) but, considering he never even thought about her words once in the story, it’s likely he doesn’t remember that at all, making the choice to be by Yona’s side defined as solely his own.

It’s this strength of his that eventually led him to say recently that he would go fetch that drug with Yoon, knowing that it was for Suwon’s sake (surprising Suwon himself), just like he will definitely fight for Kouka Kingdom, not because Yona wants him to but because it’s clearly his own desire (see ch211 where he let Yun go alone so that he could help the Earth Tribe fight):

All that makes Hak the wildest card of every agency in the plot, not simply because he’s strong and reliable and the biggest worry of the Sky Tribe, but because...

...Yona and the four dragons will never give him up.

Through Hak, Yona will be able to assert her political weight and he will be there for her, like he always was, making it impossible for their little group to lose. What a power move, I love it.

I think I should stop there because I already rambled so much. Looking forward to the rest of the arc, it’s going to be a wild ride!!

#akatsuki no yona #hak #yona #suwon #yuhon #king il #yonhi #kashi #any theory #as of:#any211 #my analysis

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tomakeitbeautifultolive · 3 years

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Something I've been wondering about: If Jon comes back as a fire wight like Beric Dondarrion and unCat, will he be able to get it up? Blood won't really be flowing in his body anymore, so would his dick be powered by fire magic or something like that?

I, too, have spent a great deal of time pondering Jon Snow’s dick, Anon. 😏 Jokes aside, I will admit right off the bat that most of what I have to offer is total speculation, but over-thinking the most minor details of ASOIAF happens to be my favorite pastime, so let’s go!

Like pretty much everyone who read the quote, I was totally thrown off by the “fire wight” revelation. Here’s the quote for reference:

“..poor Beric Dondarrion, who was set up as the foreshadowing of all this, every time he’s a little less Beric. His memories are fading, he’s got all these scars, he’s becoming more and more physically hideous, because he’s not a living human being anymore. His heart isn’t beating, his blood isn’t flowing in his veins, he’s a wight, but a wight animated by fire instead of by ice.”

So, an important distinction to make here is that this quote is about Beric Dondarrion specifically, not Jon Snow.

The condition of Jon Snow’s corpse might matter

George can be very clever with how he words things. Note that he goes into Beric’s deaths, describing multiple resurrections and how he’s falling apart before stating that his heart is no longer beating. It could be that a fresh “fire wight” might still possess bodily functions—at least at first. Catelyn, too, was a very sorry looking corpse by the time she was reanimated, therefore not a great comparison, either. Especially since it’s Beric rather than Thoros who, with very little life force to lend, resurrects her.

If nothing else, Jon will be “fresh”, and his location at the Wall means the low temperatures will help preserve his body even if the resurrection takes some time.

And speaking of the Wall… there happens to be a special lady there who could help Jon, and whose powers happen to be amplified by the magic of the Wall...

Melisandre is profoundly more powerful than Thoros of Myr

Thoros may be a red priest, but otherwise he seems to be a pretty normal human man. We get a clue about when he converted from Jaime:

“Jaime had once heard Thoros tell the king that he became a red priest because the robes hid the winestains so well.”

Relatively recently, one might guess, as most children aren’t yet drunks. Further, he was never very dedicated to his faith, even questioning it at times.

Melisandre, on the other hand...

“Melisandre had practiced her art for years beyond count, and she had paid the price. There was no one, even in her order, who had her skill at seeing the secrets half-revealed and half-concealed within the sacred flames.”

While we don’t know much about her, this confirms that she spent countless years studying her craft, and no one in her order can match her skill. And no one believes in their faith more than Melisandre. Like in the television series, it’s a safe bet that she’s actually much older than the natural human lifespan, particularly if she managed to lose count of how many years she’s studied magic.

If Melisandre is the one to resurrect Jon Snow, she might not use a ‘last kiss’ method at all, or, if she does, it could be more powerful than anything Thoros is capable of.

Unlike Beric, Jon Snow is probably the prophesied prince

Speaking of Melisandre’s ability to glimpse secrets in the flames… there’s someone she sure seems to see a lot of:

“I pray for a glimpse of Azor Ahai, and R'hllor shows me only Snow.”

“Skulls. A thousand skulls, and the bastard boy again. Jon Snow.”

“The flames crackled softly, and in their crackling she heard the whispered name Jon Snow. His long face floated before her, limned in tongues of red and orange.”

I know. There is some contention about who the Prince that was Promised is. Regardless of whether you agree that it’s Jon Snow, you’ve got to admit that Melisandre is seeing him in the flames for a reason. And if he’s not the prophesied prince, then perhaps his blood has something to do with it. It’s likely that, for some reason, the combination of Targaryen and Stark blood matters. At least, Rhaegar Targaryen seemed pretty convinced...

Whatever Jon Snow’s business is in Westeros… it’s unfinished. And part of that unfinished business might just involve becoming a father.

The emphasis put on Jon fathering a child is notable

Let’s go back to Jon’s first chapter ever. It opens with Jon at Robert’s feast, the author uses Jon’s eyes to describe the setting and multiple characters. And then enters Benjen Stark. This is when we really get to know Jon. When you read this passage, really consider the author’s intent here:

"You don't know what you're asking, Jon. The Night's Watch is a sworn brotherhood. We have no families. None of us will ever father sons. Our wife is duty. Our mistress is honor."

"A bastard can have honor too," Jon said. "I am ready to swear your oath."

"You are a boy of fourteen," Benjen said. "Not a man, not yet. Until you have known a woman, you cannot understand what you would be giving up."

"I don't care about that!" Jon said hotly.

"You might, if you knew what it meant," Benjen said. "If you knew what the oath would cost you, you might be less eager to pay the price, son."

Jon felt anger rise inside him. "I'm not your son!"

Benjen Stark stood up. "More's the pity." He put a hand on Jon's shoulder. "Come back to me after you've fathered a few bastards of your own, and we'll see how you feel."

Jon trembled. "I will never father a bastard," he said carefully. "Never!" He spat it out like venom.

Suddenly he realized that the table had fallen silent, and they were all looking at him. He felt the tears begin to well behind his eyes.

This is how George R.R. Martin chooses to introduce us to Jon Snow. And gods, that always hits me right in the gut. It’s absolutely supposed to. Jon’s trembling, venomous anger is palpable. You feel the deep hurt and resentment in his words, right down to his core. Jon says he doesn’t care—but the bite in his words and the tears welling in his eyes tell us otherwise.

Jon Snow easily embraces his vow of celibacy. At first. And then comes Ygritte. And after getting his first taste of love and later flirting with the idea of becoming a lord when it’s offered to him by Stannis, Jon Snow begins to imagine what it might be like to have a wife...

“I might someday hold a son of my own blood in my arms. A son was something Jon Snow had never dared dream of, since he decided to live his life on the Wall.”

And look what happens the moment he does dare to dream of it...

“I could name him Robb. Val would want to keep her sister's son, but we could foster him at Winterfell, and Gilly's boy as well. Sam would never need to tell his lie. We'd find a place for Gilly too, and Sam could come visit her once a year or so. Mance's son and Craster's would grow up brothers, as I once did with Robb.

He wanted it, Jon knew then. He wanted it as much as he had ever wanted anything. I have always wanted it, he thought, guiltily. May the gods forgive me. It was a hunger inside him, sharp as a dragonglass blade.”

And the feeling transitions into an almost tangible hunger felt by his wolf, Ghost.

Speaking of Ghost…

Grab your tinfoil! ‘Cause Jon’s life might’ve already been ‘paid for’ ...By Daenerys

First… in case you didn’t know, Daenerys is probably a skinchanger:

“The slightest pressure with her legs, the lightest touch on the reins, and the filly responded. As she turned to ride back, a firepit loomed ahead, directly in her path. A daring she had never known filled Daenerys then, and she gave the filly her head.”

Basically, it goes like this:

As Daenerys wanders the Dothraki Sea in search of food after being whisked away by Drogon, she hears a wolf’s howl.

“Will (Ghost) howl for me when I'm dead, as Bran's wolf howled when he fell?”

Feeling lonely yet no less hungry, she eats some strange green berries. Her stomach begins to cramp.

“My flesh will feed the wolves and carrion crows, she thought sadly, and worms will burrow through my womb.”

Unfortunately, Daenerys then experiences some horrible diarrhea. Poor girl! I don’t bring it up to be crass, but because this purge bears striking resemblance to an earthly drug called Ayahuasca—a substance that, aside from emptying your bowels, is often used as a means to ‘open your third eye’ (Just as Bran does in the crypts, and he can finally reach Jon and Ghost…)

Dany falls asleep and begins experiencing trippy dreams about her brother—perhaps even achieving contact with the other side? Then...

“When she woke, gasping, her thighs were slick with blood.”

Assuming it’s nothing more than her period, Dany begins to wonder the last time she bled—hinting that it might’ve been a little while.

“The sight of so much red frightened her. Moon blood, it's only my moon blood, but she did not remember ever having such a heavy flow.”

Maybe a bit of a stretch, I know. But… this wretched and graphic scene of Dany’s loose bowels really made me wonder what in seven hells George was thinking. I was so embarrassed for Dany that I HAD to figure out why he’d do this to her.

And my best guess is that she’s using these latent skinchanging abilities to tap into this strange connection with the “blue rose” over at the Wall of Westeros and the silent wolf who finally howled for help upon his death… And so, Dany’s miscarriage may be the death that will pay for Jon’s life.

I might’ve found some more evidence to back this claim up, this is very new ‘evidence’, so bear with me:

“Fire”, in the world of ASOIAF, often translates to “life”. As is seen here in Sam’s speech following Aemon’s death (thanks, bridge4!):

“He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out.”

Further, according to the wiki:

“When a follower of the Lord of Light dies, priests fill their mouths with fire and breathe flame into the deceased”

In the House of the Undying, Dany receives a series of chilling prophecies, one of which happens to be about fires:

“Three fires you must light, one for life, one for death and one to love”

I know, I know. Drogo’s pyre, the Khals, etc etc. But George might be playing with double meanings here… So, if we think of fires as conceptions, this could maybe mean:

One in exchange FOR the Dragon’s lives (Life)

One in exchange FOR Jon’s resurrection (Death)

One conceived (likely with Jon) and carried to term (TO love)

Food for thought! Especially considering that, like Jon, Dany possesses the blood of Old Valyria, and these sacrifices are probably all the more powerful as a result. But even if I’m dead wrong about that prophecy, well, fire still broadly means life, which bodes well for our brooding ‘bastard’, who might just end up as a “fire wight”.

Hopefully something in this drivel has given any Jon fans reading this a little bit of faith that, despite the slight setback of death, Jon will still be able to exercise his, uh, virility when he finally meets Dany. 😅 Thanks for the ask!!

#answered #jon snow #fire wight #resurrection #jonerys #asoiaf theories #asoiaf speculation #my theories #loving the asks since I can't do much else while recovering #keep 'em coming if you got 'em!

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theyanderespecialist · 3 years

Text

YANDERE MASTER LIST 2021+ RULES

-Rules-

.No Sex Scene with any characters 16 or younger

.No World Leaders or Real People such as youtubers or Celebrities

.Keep It At Least DUB CON or less

-What You Can Request Supporting Hints-

1: Genders and Genderbents

.You may have the reader be, (Male, Female, No Binary Or Transgender) (If Transgender say born as (Fill in birth gender) Identifies (Fill in Gender they identify as)

.Genderbents you make take a character from the list of fandoms bellow and ask if you want them to be the rule 63 aka genderbent version of themselves (Like with Superman Clark Kent being genderbent to Superwoman Claire Kent and anything else)

2: Sexuality

.You can Have Reader be Any sexuality there is (Straight, Bisexual, Pansexual, Gay, Lesbian, Asexual, and so on)

.Same with Characters from Fandoms. Since they are fiction you may make them any sexuality you want (Kinda obvious a yandere is yandere for whatever gender)

3: Roles and AU's

.You can make reader be anything (From Superhero to royalty, from homeless to Villain anything really may it be headcanons or scenarios I even had one story I made reader a chess champion so anything and everything (Except racist and pedo and rapist Obviously)

.Same with the characters from fandoms (Like I have Made priest characters, Dad characters, professors, serial killers and more, anything excpet those three things is good to go)

.You can do au request of like a fandom in a fantasy world or au's with soulmates and so on.

4: OCS

.Yes yes there is OCS and we do better me and my co author writing smut for them here they are

.Marie (My co author as her oc based off of her)

.Mark (My co author with Rule 63 genderbent of her based of her if she was a man)

.Michelle (My Oc based off of me EpicnessQueen)

5: Poly Relationships AKA Sharing

.Yes you can be in a poly relationship where two or more yanderes are dating each other and have the same darling

.Sharing where to yandere decide to share the same darling

-Headcanons-

.You all know how this goes by now but for anyone new. You can ask for headcanons in many different ways with the rules above and also how they deal with any type of reader like even suicidal or yandere from sharing to single it all works.

-Scenarios-

.You can ask for a scenario like (Darling finds out (List of yanderes you want) is yandere for them or anything really.

-Questions aka Q AND A-

.How would (Insert yandere or yanderes) Be like as yandere, propose what pet names they have for darling and any other questions you have in mind for the yanderes

NOW ONTO THE MASTER LIST OF 2021

-Animes-

Bleach (Seen all the anime almost)

Naruto (Seen all the anime)

Naruto Shippudin (Seen a good amount of it)

Tokyo Ghoul (Only in season 1 right now)

Black Butler (Seen most of it)

Ouran High School Host Club (Seen all the anime and manga)

Attack On Titan (Seen First two seasons)

Death Note (Seen Most Of The Anime)

One Piece (Seen a LOT OF IT)

One Punch-Man (Got The Gist Of It)

Fruit Basket (Read all the manga got to watch the new anime)

Rosario Vampire (Seen season 1)

Vampire Knight (Seen all the anime)

Cells at Work (Watching Season 1 now)

Fullmetal Alchemist (Know The Gist of it)

Future Diary (Seen most of it)

Kamigami No Asobi (Seen all of it)

-Horror Themed Ones-

Movies (TV Series will be after)

A Nightmare On Elm Street (Seen Most Of these movies)

Alien (Seen All Of Them)

Alien VS Predator

The Boy

Candyman

Carrie (Only the Original )

Child's Play (Seen the original one in 1988 not the sequels and will now do the remake)

Children Of The Corn

Deep Blue Sea (both)

Dracula

Evil Dead (2013 Remake)

The Exorcist

Final Detestation (Only The Third One)

Frankenstein

Freddy VS Jason (GO JASON!!!!)

Friday The 13th (All of Them)

Get Out

The Grudge

Halloween (Seen Them All)

Hannibal

Hannibal Rising

Harry Potter (All Eight movies)

Hellraiser (All of them but cannot remember most of them)

I know What You Did Last Summer (Seen it once)

IT (Original 2 parts and part 1 of the 2017 remake)

Jaws

Jeepers Creepers (1 and 2)

Meat Train

Orphan (Seen once)

Pet Sematary

The Phantom Of The Opera

Predator (All Of Them)

Prom Night

Psycho (The first and second one)

The Purge (first one)

The Ring (2002)

Saw (All Of Them)

Scream (Just first one)

The Shining

The Silence Of The Lambs

Silent Hill (First One)

Silent Hill (1999)

Split (Yes it is under Horror)

Sweeney Todd: The Demon On Fleet Street (Can't remember which one)

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (All Of Them)

Village of The Damned

When A stranger Calls

The Wolf Man

Wrong Turn (Some of them I cannot remember )

Zombieland

---------

Next the tv shows which is shorter for reasons (Dont question me)

Bates Motel

Buffy The Vampire Slayer

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Hannibal

The Walking Dead

------

Horror Games as I now a lot of you will want that :D

Alice The Madness Returns

Baldi's Basics

Bendy and The Ink Machine (Half of it so far)

Corpse Party (The First One)

Danganropa (all of 1 and some of 2 and 3)

Doki Doki Literature Club

Emily Wants To Play

Five Nights at Freddy (ALL OF THEM)

Hello Neighbor

Little Nightmares

Lucius (The First One)

Mad Father

Misao

Resident Evil 2 (The Remake)

Resident Evil 7

Soon To Be Resident Evil 8 Village (As soon as I can see it yasssssssssss tall vampire lady step on me!)

Ride With Strangers

Silent Hill (A Couple of Them)

Unforgiving The Northern Hymen

Until Dawn

We Happy Few

Welcome To The Game (1 and 2)

-Various Other Fandoms-

(Games)

Dream Daddy

Bully

(TV Shows)

Avatar The Last Air Bender (Not The Legend Or Korra)

Grey's Anatomy

Law and Order SVU

Prodigal Son

The Blacklist

Breaking Bad

Criminal Minds

Bones

Sherlock

A Series Of Unfortunate Events

DR. Who

Good Omens

Once Upon A Time

South Park

(Movies)

How To Train Your Dragon (Both Movies and TV and Netflix series)

Rise Of The Guardians

-Dead By Daylight-

all killers most survivors

-Outlast, Outlast Whistlerblower Outlast 2-

all characters

-Overwatch-

all characters playable or not

-Disney/Pixar-

all characters will not do the live action remakes

-Star Wars-

Most characters so far

-Degrees Of Lewdity-

All important non playable characters

-Borderlands-

all

-Greek Gods, Tales and Mythology-

everything even fucking Greek monsters as long as age is met

-hetalia-

all 1ps all 2ps and all their nyotalia and cattalia

-creepypastas-

most of them

-DC And Marvel-

Most of the characters

-Team Fortress 2-

All characters.

Well I think that is it for this year master list I may add to it but this is it right now. Please Enjoy and stay sexy!]

#yandere #yandere masterlist #yandere fandoms #yandere overwatch #yandere team fortress 2 #yandere hetalia #yandere greek mythology #yandere dc #yandere marvel #yandere creepypastas #yandere disney #yandere pixar #yandere dead by daylight #yandere outlast #yandere animes #Yandere Horror Movies #yandere horror games #yandere horror

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