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calla-lefford · 3 years

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The funeral of Grover Tully

Location: The Riverlands, Riverrun

Under the cut you will find Calla’s interactions at Grover Tully’s funeral with Wylla Tully ( @wyllatully ), Garrett Erenford ( @garrett-erenford ), Garland Hightower ( @garlandhightower ), Brynden Tully ( @rvrprnc ), Cedric Tyrell ( @visxionaries ), Harrion Stark ( @harrionstark ), Henry Lannister ( @henryoflannister ), Elyse Tully ( @goldcnaura ), Cian Tully ( @rxverlanders ), Hal Storm Jaehaerys Targaryen ( @targaryenstorm ), Mellara Tully ( @mellaratully ), Tyrin Lannister ( @tyrinlan ), Guinevere Lannister ( @gcuienveres ), Clare Tully ( @ladyotheriver ) and Araya Frey ( @ladycfthecrossing )

WYLLA TULLY: Planning and execution were two of Wylla Tully's greatest skills. There was nothing she couldn't put together that would not be excellent. A dinner to bring together the allied forces against Grover Tully in the very halls he used to roam on the same day he was buried as the Tully tradition dictated? Easy. A meal fine enough for kings but still tame enough for a funeral day was spread out for the family and their guests. As the last servant poured the wine and the last plate was brought out to pick from, she motioned for the family and guests to dig in. “Please, enjoy yourselves.” She kept her voice relatively somber, settling down in her chair fully after she spoke to the room, eyes settling on faces she'd never seen but had helped end her father's tyranny in one way or another.

GARRETT ERENFORD: The commander's respect for Grover Tully had been nonexistent, though a man in his position could at least pretend a certain amount of deference for the old trout. It was expected of him to be present at an event such as this one, he supposed, though he only found himself in attendance because of Grover's children, not the corpse himself. Some of them were family to him. As Wylla Tully spoke, he raised his glass and nodded in silence, knowing better than to offend her with condolences. He didn't say honorable words about the old man, all he hoped for was that the gods -if there truly were deities watching over this wretched world- would grant the Tully children long, better lives than that of their late father.

GARLAND HIGHTOWER: Garland didn't know why he was here. Well, he did, he knew his prince had decided on a deal with the Riverlands that made balancing the Reach's coffers and books more than a headache for the past few weeks as all the last details were ironed out between him and the Lord Frey in charge of the Riverland's gold. Sitting next to Cedric, Garland kept his wounded leg straight under the table while the good one bounced with anxiety as he drained his first glass of wine after given leave by the Tully princess. Such a position also let him favor the arm of his chair closest to his future king. “So far everything's settled in terms of the numbers, and we can start everything agreed upon when we return to Highgarden.” he said low enough to Cedric. “Unless you have last minute changes?”

BRYNDEN TULLY: There has been a long time coming. Between justice and un, the Tully children have been dealt a strong deal of both. Where they are now is not without the strength of family, duty, and honor that they make of their words and their values. Though, there was question brought to Brynden. What are they if not family? They stick together, their bond is true, but what are they if individual beings? A king is a king, not equal to one's brothers and sisters, nor even parents. A king is individual. Brynden could not be, he could not rule without his four sisters and half brother a title as great, and so would it be fair to call him king? Most especially after his findings? Findings calling another, king. There had been much thinking, observing done in the most recent of days. Questions of strength, self, and integrity. All Brynden knew he could be, or wanted to be was who he was before the war, and it was the version of self he would give it all up to go back to. His siblings would always be his siblings, and now he would choose to always be him, the Brynden that came before the neverending dance with spins and twirls. Brynden clears his throat, calling forth the attention of those who are seated around him. “Call it what you may, but this is an unfortunate passing, a passing that came not by traitorous acts, traitorous allies; worn masks by foes. Today I lost a father, and my siblings theirs. Today my father and mother meet again by the grace of the Seven. There is loss here, and there is sadness. And at the end of the day we all sit here, yours and ours,” he gestures to the parties joining the Tullys. “To bid farewell to one king and welcome another in his place. A place, that was meant for me.” His eyes move to Cedric, “but it is a place I cannot take, and will not take.” He raises from his lap a paper that he hands to him first, “It is for Cian to take. The legitimized heir, signed by with no other than the handwriting of my father.”

CEDRIC TYRELL: Cedric found himself remaining briefly in the Riverlands for the funeral of a king; an anointed king, with a bloodline that could be traced for a thousand years, he who seemed the most stable of all high within the walls of Riverrun. For the situation had grown effortlessly dire, with the River King remaining safe behind the walls of Riverrun whilst it looked as though they would have to siege; and all of Westeros knew, one could not siege Riverrun as though it were simply a castle made of paper cards. “See to it the books are kept safe under lock and key until we have returned to our soil.” Cedric spoke under his breath as he watched a serving girl pour him a glass of wine, turning his attention toward Brynden Tully, who had risen from his seat to utter some words. Family was a fickle matter; Cedric perhaps understood better than others how dire relationships between family could become, giving the correct circumstances. After all, were there not thoughts in the back of his mind, hoping the King of Thorns would befall some tragic accident?

Bringing the goblet of wine to his lips, he noticed the man's eyes looking over at him; they were beginning a new chapter of life around similar times. At least, that was until... his thoughts trailed to the books he had just spoken to his Master of Coin about; he had made his condition explicitly clear, it was only his childhood friend Brynden he would trust to start this journey with; with Reach money funding the Riverlands, there would be progress. Or would have been. There were no words to come from his mouth, his gaze remaining fixed on the man, his orbs becoming increasingly colder with each minute. Then, finally. “It would be wise to reconsider.”

HARRION STARK: Harrion felt like he had stepped back in time, sitting in the hall at Riverrun like he had done so many time during his time fostered here. And yet, so very much had changed. For one, Grover Tully’s formidable figure no longer sat at the front of the room. He had spent most of the day with his eyes trained like a hawk on Elyse, watching for any sign that she might not be alright, and moving to stand next to her or to throw her a smile across the crowd when it seemed so.

He had found a seat next to her during dinner, his leg pressed reassuringly against hers under the table in a manner neither of them had chosen to acknowledge. His wolfskin cloak, the best he owned, was draped over the back of her chair from when he had wrapped it protectively around her shoulders on their way back inside. Normally the loudest man in every room, his rough norther accent unmissable, he had grown quiet tonight.

When Brynden, the oldest friend he has, the closest thing he has to a brother next to Rodrik, clears his throat, Harrion’s attention is caught like a fish in a net. His head tilts ever so slightly to one side, a frown marring his brow, trying to figure out what it means. He manages to bite down on the curse against the dead man that threatens to leave his lips. It was not often he would willingly agree with a Tyrell, but he nodded his assent. “Bryn…” he looked from the man he had always assumed would take Grover’s place at the helm of the Riverlands and then the the Rivers bastard of the same auburn hair as the rest of them. “Surely not…”

HENRY LANNISTER: Truthfully; Henry Lannister little for the Grover king, and even less for the Tullys overall, for it seemed as though once again some element of family theatrics were spilling before the world stage. The man, dressed in velvet maroon and gold, was sat to the left of his siblings. he took a deep gulp of the Arbor wine in his goblet as the Tully prince stood to make a speech, no doubt regarding his limp, dead father. The man was expressionless, his eyes surveying the notable guests in attendance, those who had made their presence known, those who had sent delegates and thoughts and respects. In truth, such a man who would risk such turmoil upon his own lands would not be granted a funeral; but rather be hung, drawn and quartered. If one chose to behave like a thirsty animal in life, they would meet their end like an animal.

Though, his eyes looked up as it seemed Brynden Tully was renouncing his right to the River throne, all for a man called Cian to come and take. His gaze fixed upon the other Tully male, older than the prince in question, who looked as though the world had just been flipped from beneath his feet. Looking sideways at Tyrin and Guinevere, he simply shook his head. It was not something they should pursue any further, in his own opinion; they needed to ally with an experienced leader. “It no longer benefits this family.”

ELYSE TULLY: The mood had altered so much within the span of minutes that the Tully princess nearly felt faint. It made her queasy to think that things truly were out of their control. She had laid her eyes upon the lit boat, the flames embracing it had taken a liking to the river all the same. The girl had stood there, watching the flames for a moment too long before turning her back on whatever remained of Grover Tully. Harrion had been waiting for her, he had wrapped his cloak around her and she had gratefully accepted. Though the chills that claimed her body were perhaps not because of the wind.

Light gaze watched her brother as he stood, comforted by the presence of her family and the touch of the northern prince. she is unsure what she was expecting from Brynden but the words that spew from his lips… well, she was not expecting that. Gaze flickers instinctively to Wylla and she bites back a grimace as Cedric speaks. Eyes find her big brother, legitimized by her late father as a last means of perhaps being a pain even in death. She’s conflicted - Brynden had grown up expecting to take his father’s place, knowing he would and now… Cian was everything his siblings always saw him as. A Tully, not a Rivers.

“Cian?” Elyse calls quietly, glancing at him where he sat besides her. “Are you alright?” His life was about to change just as much as the rest of theirs and she cannot help but worry for him, wonder what exactly is going through his mind. Finally, her gaze finds Brynden. What was to come of him? “And what of yourself, brother ??” There’s heaviness in her heart, a silent sign she will not like his answer. Slowly, a hand finds Harrion’s beneath the table.

CIAN TULLY: The man remained sat as his brother rose to his feet, ready to make his euology regarding Grover Tully; and what a man he was, long before the dragons danced in the sky. He was a man that endured his bastard son was treated well within the triangle walls of Riverrun, ate at the same table as his siblings, was in family portraits, was called son regardless of surname; Cian himself never once felt a sense of resentment or anger toward his father, for it was his inviting nature and his prioritisation of family that gave Cian the confidence to be the man he was today. For yes, he were a bastard; but he were more than that too.

And yet, as Cian listened intently to the words of his brother, there were certain words he did not think to ever hear. For he had been legitimised; he was a Tully in name and heart. And yet, it came at a price, a price that could knock the wind from him. The man rose to his feet briefly, standing beside his brother and putting a hand on his shoulder, keeping his voice incredibly low.

“Come on lad..” Cian muttered, his tone concerned yet there was an element of irritation behind it, at the very back of his throat. “Think rationally, he wasn't in his greatest of minds toward his final days. This...” he trailed off, a slight laugh of shock escaping from his lips. “This isn't happening.”

HAL STORM JAEHAERYS TARGARYEN: Tension. It made him nostalgic for family dinners. He almost wanted to stand and give a speech. He didn't have a speech to give. He was hungry and he did want to eat. There were pluses. He could learn something new. There could be some information that he didn't know before. Jae looked around the table and smiled into his cup, taking another drink.

He didn't care about the Tullys. He didn't really hate fish unless it was in a stew. Maybe something thick cut. Jae put his cup down and considered offering something. He supposed that all funerals came with their own sort of tensions. Headaches. Dead men meant one thing. Schemes and Jae liked schemes. Especially schemes he could watch safely from the sidelines.

“Enjoy is a strong recommendation. give the circumstances. lovely table setting.”

MELLARA TULLY: The words from her brother clearly sent a shock wave throughout the entire hall. It was clear none of them knew this information was coming. Mel stared at her brother, dumbfounded he had no warned her of his news to come. After all the two of them had been through together. Everything at Dragonstone the two of them suffered, the night of the attack, the trials. Their time in the Vale, the war. All of that they had shared together and he could not tell her of this earth-shattering news.

Her eyes flickered over to Cian, clear by his expression he had little idea what was happening either. Cian was a good man, a good brother to them all. A Tully like he always had been. There was little doubt in her mind about that. But never had she thought of him becoming king, since that spot had always been in line for Brynden. And now everything was out of sorts. The quiet in the hall seemed never-ending as she waited for someone to say something. Lucian happily babbling away sitting on her lap stretching out his arms to his nearby aunts for attention, not aware of the changes his family was facing.

Mel wanted to say something to Cian but before she could, he rose from his seat and went towards their brother. Mel unsure of what to say or what even could be said. “Is this not something that should be discussed later?” she asked, her voice low hoping only her siblings could hear it. There were too many others here. But maybe that's what Brynden wanted. To announce in front of others. His words could not be taken back now after being heard by so many.

TYRIN LANNISTER: Tyrin is a man for surprises, but not this one. This news would mean that the Lannisters and the Westerlands would have to come up with a plan B, but they only ever needed their plan A's. There was frustration, anger within him. The wine he was to bring to taste, near came pouring out of his mouth. Who would give up their regency? And to a bastard? “You speak against your region if you speak for a bastard.” A bastard should never be king. Clare was better suited for queen than was a bastard and she was a full-blooded daughter when a full-blooded son was born and still breathed. The Tullys and Riverlands would be another weak link for the Lannisters and Westerlands. Already Alaric and his own wife failed them, his wife proving again the queen she is by not attending. “What better is it for a bastard to take the Riverlands based off of a dead man's word? A formerly mad dead man's word?” he near wants to laugh. “You favor not an alliance, but a foe when you choose to put a bastard on your already cracking throne to weaken your kingdom and those they align with.”

GUINEVERE LANNISTER: Guinevere's head had been leaning in her cousin Calla's direction, the girls engaging in some talk regarding the members of noble society that had made themselves present for what they all silently prayed was the final curtain call on the Tully matter. The topic of conversation had also fallen onto a certain Lord Hightower; whom her cousin would soon find herself wed to, should all go smoothly and according to plan. She fell quiet however when she saw a distant head of auburn hair stand upon their feet, setting her cold glass of water down and looking briefly across the faces of the Tully chldren; they were to be the next generation of their neighbours, and she truly hoped the two regions would be able to secure a benefit from their close geographical proximity.

The words of Brynden Tully had caught her attention, the words drying from her throat as she sat and fully contemplated the consequences. Her two brothers seemed to move first, as they always did, though she remained in her seat. She didn't look over at the prince, whom she had discussed a deal with; though a trip to the wall had been left out before she approached the matter with the Lion King. She bit back her words on the tip of her tongue, words that would no doubt only add to the tension. All the benefits for trade with the Riverlands still stood, though their leadership was now firmly under question. Was it a risk worth taking? There had to be more, another promise, another bind to the alliance; her eyes fell over to the Tully women, one she had never seen before... “Can we not strengthen this partnership by adding to it?” she asked, glancing slightly at Tyrin, before looking over at Harry.

CALLA LEFFORD: The eldest of the Lefford children behaved as the courteous woman her mother had raised her to be, offering condolences to the newly orphaned sons and daughters of Grover Tully. A plentiful dinner was served for those in attendance and Calla found her place by her cousin’s side. At any given situation she chose Gwen’s company above anyone else’s, and that was especially true throughout this dreary matter. They chatted privately regarding Lord Hightower, the man she was bound to marry. The crippled knight, she’d called him when speaking to her mother. If anything, this event might serve as an excuse to begin seeing if there was more to the man than being crippled.

Calla did wonder how many of those present here truly mourned the passing of the old king and how many found themselves present due to some requirement of some kind. She took some sips of her wine and watched the chaos erupt between the Tullys after Brynden’s unexpected announcement. She schooled her expression into a composed, dignified one; though she couldn’t help but feel partially amused by the sheer stupidity of airing these sorts of matters in front of an audience. What credibility could be in a house that didn’t have its own affairs in order? “Pardon me, my lords,” she glanced towards Brynden and then to Cian, “It must be the wine causing some confusion,” she smiled politely. She was perfectly sober in spite of the goblet in her hand, a drink she nursed slowly while continuing to pay attention to those around her. She never got drunk in public events. “So, who’s to be called king after all this?”

CLARE TULLY: Clare took her seat next to Wylla, knowing full well she could trust the other with the underhanded comments she would surely be muttering to her all evening. The last thing she wanted to do was play the part of the mourning daughter of Grover Tully in front of the many Kings, Lords, and Ladies of Westeros. It felt like putting on a mask. It was feign. It was exhausting. Clare was tired of the pretending, but she assured herself this evening would be the last, and then gods willing she would have to speak of Grover Tully no more. She took a long sip of wine, her second glass already, a choice she'd likely come to regret, but the bold flavors of the liquid filled her with a courage she feared she couldn't muster on her own. Along with her siblings, she knew she'd make it through this night. That was, until Brynden spoke, shocking the entirety of the dinner party in one fell swoop.

At Mellara's comment about private matters, Clare gave a firm nod and spoke quietly back, “It should have been spoken of earlier.” Her voice was harsher than she intended, but her frustration was clearly not aimed at her sister. Clare closed her eyes, only a few seconds, composing herself, especially of the Tyrell King's comment, before sitting straighter, formulating an appropriate, diplomatic response in her mind. “Trust is not earned over dinner, alliances are not forged strongly in just one generation. Your graces, my lords, my ladies, surely you will give the Riverlands a chance to prove your trust would not be earned in vain. We, together, plan to continue our father's vision for our Kingdom, as duty, honor, and family are the core values we all hold dearly. Many of you put your trust into Brynden, and perhaps our father before him, I implore you to trust his decision in this, or at the very least, open your mind to it.” It was important to her to leave options on the table, and she hoped that even if one at this table took her words to heart, it might make all the difference.

ARAYA FREY: The passing of her great uncle was bittersweet for most of the river lands who had seen first hand how the man had slowly lost his mind, to put it ever so bluntly. She sympathized with her cousins of course, because mad or not he was still their father. The woman also could not help but recall the passing of her own parents on this day, and it made the whole affair all that much unbearable. Thus her goblet wasn’t without wine from the moment it had first been filled. It was when Bryn made his announcement that she finally had reprieve from the looming grief, a distraction. Her gaze sought out her brothers curious to see how he was reacting to this news, and then Garrett though ever so fleetingly. “And here I was expecting a peaceful dinner. ” She muttered into her wine glass. Though anyone who knew her at all could guess at how dreadful the idea of peaceful anything was to her.

WYLLA TULLY: She was seeing red. Her younger brother had gone and decided a public dinner with their allies was the best time to bow out and throw them a stranger, their brother, to rip apart while he ducked away from the throne. She could understand why, with what grover had put his heir through and perhaps how unprepared he might feel... but now was not the time to tell everyone. Definitely not the time to tell his own family. It was the foreign royalty that kept her mostly contained, but anyone could see a fire in the Tully's eyes as she stood, kicking away her chair and snatching their father's legitimization to read herself. “As the only sibling with free access to our father in his last days, I can attest our father was more intent on causing chaos than he was on domestic affairs. This surprises even myself.” She made her voice carry through the hall, the tone cold as she read the paper. She knew the handwriting anywhere, and it was real. Giving it back to her brother with a burning look in her eye to him, she turned to the room. “Cian was raised among us as a brother until he reached majority and left to start his own life, your highnesses. Never was he a bastard. To call him such is an insult to each and every Tully in this room.” Her eyes pass over the Lannisters and Tyrells, begging for a challenge from them, begging for an insult that she could unleash on them for. “We as a family will settle this matter privately, but rest assured both of my brothers always have the good of the Riverlands and our friends at heart. For you are our friends.” It was all she allowed herself to say, for she could not bear to start more trouble for her family when the last of it was sinking in the rivers and feeding the fish. Turning to her brothers though, her voice was low and left little room for argument. “Sit. We mustn't let them smell the blood in the water from this.” Wylla then sat and scooped up her nephew, holding him close so she didn't strangle one of them.

GARRETT ERENFORD: The commander was shocked by the news as he supposed everyone else was. All this time he’d expected to serve Brynden. Not that he would be any less honorable in his service to Cian but- Seven hells, what had possessed his friend to make this announcement now? He figured that after all their years of camaraderie there would be trust and honesty between them. But then again, Brynden had clearly blindsided his siblings so why should he expect special treatment? He would try and get a moment’s privacy with his friend after all of this was over.

He caught Araya’s eyes on him, even if she looked at him only briefly. He was subtle in the gesture but he raised his glass to her in the trajectory of raising the drink to his lips.

ELYSE TULLY: Chaos threatened to unfold and… in a way, had already done so. Her family was in discrete shambles, a brother had kept things from the rest, a brother was horrified, all three of her sisters were infuriated and offended. The kings did not understand, they saw a bastard where the Tullys looked at a brother. His lack of sharing a mother meant nothing to them just as Clare’s did. They were siblings, through and through. No one, not the Lion King or the Thorn Regent would change that. Elyse nods as her twin mutters the fact that these are private affairs and as the conversation continues, Clare’s irritation floods her tone and Wylla’s fire is mirrored in oceanic hues… the youngest stands. She abruptly does so, suddenly feeling as though the air is thick and the spoken words of others adds to it.

“Pardon me.” Her digits unthread from Harrion’s, releasing his hand suddenly and moving to exit the room. The soft voice of the princess is not as hushed as she excuses herself, no glance spared to any of her siblings so as to avoid Wylla’s particular one. The princess furrows her brows as she rushes through the halls and out towards the garden, breathless. “Gods…” she mutters, hands lifting towards her lifted hair. The pins holding it up are removed, held in her grasp tightly as long fiery locks cascade down her back.

GARLAND HIGHTOWER: With the announcement made, Garland looked between Cedric and the Tully family, before wincing from his leg. It was a legitimate pain, as it was always slightly aching, but he let it play as worse than it was on his face. “I need to retire, your grace. My leg.” He says loud enough for the rest of the room before making a bit of a production of getting up and walking out, leaning heavy on his cane until no one could see. The books were already locked away, but this would set him at the very least on a long night of new maths and figures that he didn't exactly want to set out on yet again.

CALLA LEFFORD: It didn't go unnoticed by Calla that some attendees were beginning to step out now that some of the complicated matters had been spoken. She took a sip from her wine and set the goblet on the table. Her attention went to Ser Hightower as he excused himself, making it known that his injured leg was troubling him in some way. “The wine is getting to my head, I need some air,” she said towards her cousin. Her eyes darted briefly towards the now empty sear of the Hightower lord and then back to Gwen. A spoken excuse for the rest, a truthful explanation for her cousin. Calla barely knew the man she was to marry and this served as a perfect opportunity to learn more about the knight.

#event: the funeral of grover tully

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persnickety-persnackety · 4 years

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In The Shadows of Dragons

AN: Okay, first, I want to thank everyone in the Jonsa tag who responded so warmly to my original post about posting this fic. I have major anxiety, but this fandom just made me feel so accepted and welcome that it only took me a few more hours to psyche myself up to post this. I just want to express my gratitude before I put this out there.

Title: in the Shadows of Dragons Word Count: 3K+ Rating: T+ Pairing: Jon/Sansa Summary: Sansa entered in a marriage of convenience with the widower, Jon Targaryen, to leave the grasp of her wretched relatives, but when she comes to the realization that she has fallen in love with Jon whom she realizes will likely never love her in return because of how he felt for his lost wife, she finds that the only option left to her is to escape. An AU of Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca.

Run

“We’re not meant for happiness, you and I.”– Daphne Du Maurier, Rebecca

It was the bright light streaming through her window that pulled Sansa reluctantly out of the clutches of sleep. Her head was rested on her folded arms propped on her vanity table, which had seemingly served as her bed the previous night. A groan slipped from her lips, past the sour taste of sleep that lingered on her tongue, as her body made its protest known toward her choice of sleeping place with sharp aches and stiff muscles in her arms and legs. Her neck, back, and arms were the parts of her that complained the most when she struggled to push herself into an upright sitting position and raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun’s rays. The ache in her eyes remained even when removed from the path of unwavering light, and if that pain wasn’t a startling reminder of what had put her in such a pitiful situation, the reflection that stared despondently back at her in the mirror of her vanity was quick to remedy that brief moment of blissful ignorance.

Sansa stared sullenly at her reflection and solemnly gathered the evidence of the failure that had been the previous night. Half of her crimson-red tresses were still pulled up in the elegant hairstyle she had spent hours attempting to get just right, though one wouldn’t believe it based on the disarray it was currently in. The makeup that she had also spent a great deal of time trying to perfect was in worse shape, the carefully applied lines completely destroyed by the innumerable tears that had fallen down her cheeks for hours before exhaustion won out and she had fallen asleep. The image in the mirror could have been conjured out of nightmares, and yet Sansa couldn’t bear the thought of cleaning it all up because the girl underneath the chaos was probably in even worse shape.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring miserably at herself, contemplating how far she had fallen in a mere matter of hours. It was hard to believe that at this same time yesterday, she had been seated in the same place, preparing for a night she had been counting down the days to for weeks. Her heart had been filled with more hope than she had dared to ever let herself feel in years as she had allowed herself to picture a future that she had thought herself denied for so long. She was so unaware of the fact that those dreams and hopes would be dashed so thoroughly before the night could even truly begin.

When she was finally able to tear her gaze from the mirror, Sansa sent a cursory glance around the room and saw that it was in little better shape than what she saw in her reflection. She avoided looking at the costume dress that she had tirelessly put together over the past few weeks or the shoes that she had ordered special from King’s Landing to go with it. The items were strewn across the floor, and they would remain where she had hastily discarded them until one of the maids came to pick them up. Normally, she would have been scandalized at the thought of leaving her room in such a state for the maids to see, but the part of her that cared for such things was gone, beaten away by her embarrassment and self-pity. She didn’t even seem to care that Doreah would be able to take one look at her rooms and know exactly what happened and would immediately report her findings to her conspirator. It was all a part of a game, after all, and after last night, Sansa had come to realize she had been soundly defeated by her opponents, thoroughly trounced if her current appearance was anything to go by.

The game was one she hadn’t even known existed before she had stepped foot on Dragonstone, and yet she was thrust into it six months ago with no instruction or aid. Her opponents were well-learned in the rules, and they were merciless in the execution of their turns, whereas she had been floundering and clumsy in her poor attempts at playing. It was no surprise that this was the outcome: she having so little of herself left, though most of her opponents would say there was little of her to begin with. Now in her defeat, she was left with only two avenues going forward: she could continue living in this place where she would be painfully reminded of how inadequate she was and how lacking she would always be in comparison to the one that had come before her, or she could slink back to the crooked arms of those who had already diminished her hopes and dreams over the past years with only a prayer that another rare opportunity to escape them would present itself like the one she had received at the hand of the grey-eyed man whom she had foolishly mistaken as her salvation.

There was a time that she would have said that she would rather die than return to her aunt, Lysa, and Petyr Baelish, but that was before she had seen his grey eyes filled with ire as he flung cold, stilted words at her through clenched teeth. A life being tormented and belittled by her family seemed like a paradise when compared to the way she had felt when she had been the sole subject of his fury. Never before had she ever felt so low or humiliated than when she had seen the anger and disappointment etched on his face when he had looked up and watched her coming down the staircase in her costume. His jaw had been clenched and his fists had immediately balled into fists at his side as he had thrown cold, stilted commands to take the costume off. He hadn’t even bothered to explain his reaction before he had turned and walked away from her without so much as a glance back despite her sobs being loud enough for him to hear. Even when she had found out the reason for his disdain and tried to make amends, he had refused to even look at her and had dismissed her with a curt shake of his head while he diverted his attention to a nearby guest, ignoring her presence completely. He had not wanted her near him at all, and so Sansa had had no choice but to slink away to her rooms despite the party just barely beginning.

Of course, the reason for all of his anger would always go back to her, the shadow of his previous wife – the wife he truly loved and didn’t merely pity like he did Sansa. She had worn the very same costume that Sansa had spent weeks putting together for the masquerade, and it was her that he had seen when Sansa had walked down the stairs. It was only the realization that it was Sansa and not her that had infuriated him so amidst his disappointment. The realization had become clear: he would never see her in the same way he saw his dead wife. That ghost would forever have more power over him than Sansa could ever hope to wield.

With a sudden burst of energy derived from an abrupt determination to distance herself from the memories of the previous night, Sansa rose brusquely from the seat of her vanity. She moved so quickly that she upended the stool, sending it crashing loudly to the floor. Not even sparing it a second glance, she left it there, caring little that it would serve as another clue denoting her fall from grace. Her mind was more occupied with what she was going to do from here. She had to use every ounce of what little resolve she had to follow through with her best course of action moving forward, everything else be damned. If she dawdled too long, she was certain her senses would most likely peek through, and she just couldn’t allow her mind to be changed, not from this.

Sansa couldn’t find her old, tattered carpetbag that had held the paltry items of clothing she had used in Lys, so she settled on pulling out one of the new suitcases that had been purchased for her on her honeymoon. Guilt lingered on her conscience for taking it, but she pushed such feelings aside by telling herself that she would send money back to pay for whatever she took. A lot of her original underthings and stockings had been discarded since she had been in Dragonstone, due to their poor state upon her arrival, so she was forced to pack a few of the new stockings and slips that had been purchased for her, which she added to the tally that she would pay for later. Managing to find some of her old frocks and dresses, she felt an immense sense of relief that she wouldn’t need to take any of the new dresses and rich clothing, newly purchased, in the wardrobe. What few items she was taking were placed in the suitcase along with her original three pairs of shoes and a set of gold flower combs. The latter wasn’t something she had come with, but even in her sullen misery, she couldn’t bear to leave it behind. They had been a gift from him on their honeymoon after all, and if she was going to leave with nothing else from this place, she would keep the set as a reminder that this particular time in her life hadn’t been just one long, strange dream.

Slipping into one of her old frocks and donning her old, weather-worn coat, Sansa quickly brushed out the curls and tangles from her hair and braided her long red tresses into a loose braid over her shoulder. She washed off all of the traces of makeup in her attached washroom – more than a little elbow grease needed to wipe off the dark streaks around her eyes – and reluctantly took in the reflection after. Her skin was pallid, veering dangerously toward gaunt, with her eyes, cheeks, and her nose was flushed red from the washcloth and the fresh tears she had shed while packing. Her assumption that she would look a fright underneath the makeup was affirmed, but she had little time to dwell on such trivial thoughts, especially when escape was the most important thing to consider. If she was going to slip away unnoticed, it had to be now.

Though there were a few maids up this early in the morning, Sansa knew she could avoid them fairly easily with their attention undoubtedly focused on cleaning up the dining hall and the ballroom where the party took place. Even though her night had been ruined before the grand gathering had even begun, it had still gone on without her, and she could only assume that the majority of the house staff would be focusing their attention on cleaning up the remnants of the festivities. So, on feet that were surprisingly quiet against the dark marble floor, she slipped cautiously from one shadow to the next down the hall of the family wing of the manor until she was finally able to reach the staircase that would take her down to the main entrance where she would finally be able to slip away.

Sansa’s steps felt a little lighter with every step she descended with no on in the house noticing her, but at the same time, her heart grew heavier and heavier the closer she drew to the door. As much as she tried to tell herself that she was making the right choice in escaping, that the alternative of staying was just too unbearable, a part of her knew that even when she made her escape, she would be leaving far more than her lavish clothes and jewelry behind. She was leaving a large piece of herself in the hands of the very same person who had crushed her spirits into dust.

Even in her sorrow, she couldn’t truly blame him for how she felt because he had never promised her anything more than what he had provided, which was still more than she ever thought she deserved. He had offered her a life free of her cruel aunt’s influence and her lecherous uncle’s unwanted touches, nothing more. It was her fanciful mind and inclination for fairytale endings that had overwhelmed her logic and her caution, leading her to fall in love with the mysterious Lord Targaryen with the hope of him learning to love her in return. Lysa had always said she was a selfish girl who was never satisfied with what she was given, and in this instance, Sansa hated to admit that her aunt was right. She should have just been happy to go along with the flow and accept the situation for what it was, but her heart had defied her. Now, it was shattered with only the promise of the lesser of two unbearable pains to look forward to in her near future.

When Sansa reached the large, ornate front door that opened to the stairs that would take her down to the beach, her hands were trembling, almost to the point that she nearly missed the handle completely. She took a brief moment to calm her nerves before she pulled on the large brass handle to open it to freedom. She never realized how loud the giant thing was when she had used it countless times in the past to come in and out of the manor, but when it gave a loud groan as she pulled it open, Sansa froze with her breath caught in her lungs and her fingers squeezing the handle to the point of pain. She stared behind her with wide eyes, expecting someone to come out and demand to know what she was doing, sneaking out with a suitcase full of her meager belongings, but after a tense minute of waiting with no one showing up to berate or question her, she finally forced herself to make her feet continue moving forward out the door. As soon as she felt the sun shining on her once again with the door closed behind her, she released the pent-up breath that had been built up in her lungs. She tried to make herself believe that the warmth on her skin was a good omen of things to come, that she was making the right decision, but her heart still throbbed painfully inside her chest.

If Sansa’s descent down the stairs of the manor had felt like an eternity, her descent down the giant stone steps of the manor leading to the beach felt more like a single blink of an eye, which given the enormity of the construction was a great feat to achieve. The speed was mostly attributed to the fact that her feet were working on autopilot. She had felt the first stirrings of doubt as soon as she had closed the large front door behind her, and so for her own self-preservation, she had forced her mind into a sort of limbo where her body functioned more on instinct rather than careful reaction. Where caution would have had her pausing at the older parts of the stairway that were crumbling from age, desperation had her careening over those steps with a previously unknown confidence that had luckily resulted in her feet still managing to reach the sand of the beach instead of her body being scattered over the rocks on the side of the cliffs. Such an achievement, however, was mostly lost on Sansa, who was now standing just outside the large gate, staring up at the monstrous stone manor that had served as her home for the past handful of months.

Dragonstone. The name had sounded dreary to her ears long before she had ever set eyes on the gargantuan stone castle, and when she had first laid eyes on it six months ago, she had found its name to be quite fitting. From a distance, one could imagine the giant mass of dark stone on the cliffs was a giant dragon perched, ready to spring. Up close, it was even more sinister and foreboding, though it also held its fair amount of beauty with its expert construction and detailing. Staring up at it, however, Sansa could not help but think that the dragon from afar was still there, glaring down at her as it would an intruder or even its prey.

Dragonstone was said to have housed dragons once upon a time, and had served as the home to the Targaryens throughout their occupation, who continued to claim themselves to be dragons, though the most current resident could not be counted amongst that number. He was never proud to claim that particular part of his lineage, but that blood still coursed through his veins. He could still be considered a dragon, and so he was never haunted by them like she was. Dragonstone housed the shadows of the dragons, after all, and of all those that came before, it was just one in particular whose presence had been far more prominent than the others, and it was that presence that had haunted Sansa’s steps from the moment she stepped foot in the stone halls.

“So long, you fiendish apparition,” Sansa muttered under her breath, her eyes narrowed at the manor that towered over her, silent in its foreboding reign over the horizon. Every dark brick seemed to be laughing at her in her craven retreat, but she pushed herself to tilt her chin up, holding it high as she glared back. “You’re not going to be a witness to any more of my suffering.”

Gripping the handle of her suitcase even tighter in her hand, Sansa slowly tore her eyes from the manor and finally turned to start making her way down the path that would lead to the docks where she would be able to catch the ferry to the mainland. She had taken her wallet that had enough cash for her fare on the ferry and enough to buy a room in a decent hotel while she decided how to go on from there. That money would be added to the growing amount she would send back once she had the means. She didn’t know when that would be, especially given the situation she would be thrust into when she returned to her family, but she was determined to not be forever indebted to Dragonstone and have that be another score it held against her.

She turned her thoughts to focus more on her more immediate future like what she planned to do when she reached King’s Landing. She would have to find a way to get ahold of her family, though she suspected that they would be less than thrilled to hear from her, especially with how they parted ways months before. Reaching out to Uncle Edmure seemed like her best bet, considering he had been the only one whom she had parted with on good terms. He would most likely welcome her for a time, but no matter how things played out with him, Sansa could see no future where she would be able to evade Aunt Lysa and Petyr’s grips for good. They would find a way to get their hands back on her eventually, and the mere thought of their smug expressions made her stomach feel like lead.

Her mind was so occupied with how she was going to weather the storm of retribution that her aunt was inevitably going to bring down upon her head that Sansa failed to notice that someone was approaching her on the path, coming from the direction of the docks. She was staring at her feet, silently willing them to keep propelling her forward, when she finally noticed another pair of feet standing motionless in the middle of the path, blocking her way. It was the first person she had come across since her morning had begun, and Sansa hoped it would be the last she would face, at least until she was safely on the ferry to King’s Landing.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled quietly, her head still bowed, as she stepped off the path to make her way around the owner of the shoes standing in front of her. They made no move to give her way, even as she was practically on top of them at this point. Sansa kept her head down, knowing that most people on the island knew her, and she wished to avoid facing anyone or see their questioning gazes. She quickened her steps to bypass her current obstacle to freedom, but a gasp of surprise slipped from her mouth when the person suddenly moved with her, placing themselves firmly back in her path.

“I beg your pardon,” she spoke a bit louder and clearer, addressing her rude obstacle coolly, unable to hide her annoyance. The smell of the salt was strong, letting her know she was so close to the sea and her eventual escape from this place. Not even a boorish, rude figure could stand in her way when she was so close to her freedom.

“I would like to leave, and you’re standing in my way,” she added more forcefully, once again trying to move to the opposite side, but the person once again moved to place themselves in her path once more.

“I can see that, Sansa.”

That oh so familiar voice, so low and husky, froze Sansa in place, her legs suddenly becoming petrified as she lifted her head quickly to look up into the face of the absolute last person she had wanted to run into. Grey eyes that had become fixtures in both her fantasies and her nightmares stared directly back into her own, and she could feel the judgment rolling off of them in waves, making her wish the sand would just swallow her whole. Even if she had not already blatantly stated her intentions, she understood that he was all too aware of what she was doing by the way his eyes flicked down to her suitcase clutched at her side. She was caught, her quiet escape now turning into a war of wills, though Sansa silently prayed hers, though lacking, would overcome.

“Jon,” she mumbled quietly, her voice sounding frail to her ears. Still, in that single word, she filled her tone with a desperate plea for him to just step aside and let her go. It was, after all, for his benefit as much as it was for hers.

A cold, thin smile spread across Jon’s lips as he gazed at her challengingly, seeming to understand exactly what this moment was. A single twitch of the lips was all she needed to see to know that he had no intention of making her escape easy.

“Sansa, my dear wife. Were you planning on going somewhere?”

Sansa closed her eyes and bowed her head. She had been so close.

Part 2

#jonsa #jon x sansa #actually jonsa #jonsa fanfiction #jon snow #sansa stark #got #this isn't even edited right because i have family in town who are breathing down my neck #so i think i will be editing this further before i even think of posting it to ao3 #my writing #my fic

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years

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Filling the Met Shaped Hole (No, Not Like That): The Best Red Carpet Looks of Awards Season 2020

Hi to anyone reading,

I want to jump straight into things and ask a question. Which is the best Met Gala theme of the last 5 years and why is it Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and the Catholic Imagination?

Seriously though, despite the fact that I’m not sure anything will top Heavenly Bodies with the preceding and succeeding Met Galas being relatively disappointing (the camp theme definitely could have been taken further and lets not even talk about the Comme Des Garcons disaster), I still get excited for the gala every year, staying up til whatever hour of the morning so I can see all the fashion live. Of course, it makes complete sense that this year’s event has been postponed until October given the circumstances but the chosen theme of Fashion and Duration had the potential to be quite interesting, so I hope we do eventually get to see it; whilst I don’t miss endlessly scrolling through photos of every white male celebrity wearing the exact same suit and tie to the point where fangirls claim Harry Styles to be a pioneer of breaking gender norms because he wore a pink top, I long for the days where we could all temporarily coexist in peace and harmony thanks to the internet’s collective dragging of the Kardashians for paying no attention to the theme whatsoever. We should’ve guessed life as we know it was about to be flipped on its head when they actually turned up in something interesting last year.

What I’m trying to say is that I would love nothing more than to jump back in time to when tomorrow morning’s top Google search would be best Met Gala looks, and not how many lives did Boris Johnson’s fuckery cost us today. So in honour of the lack of trivial content, I thought I’d fill the Met shaped hole in our lives (amongst many other unfilled holes; today the freezer door at work hit me on the ass whilst I was putting ice cubes out and I think for a split second I got all flushed) by putting together a collection of my personal favourite red carpet looks from this year’s awards season and their respective afterparties: the BAFTAs, Brits, Critic’s Choice Awards, Golden Globes, Oscars, SAG Awards, and the Grammys to finish with.

Enjoy!

British Academy of Film and Television Arts Award (yes, that’s the BAFTAs but I needed a longer title)

(L-R: Zoe Kravitz in Dior, Rooney Mara in Givenchy, and Scarlett Johansson in Versace)

I am a British fan of television and arts but I will gladly say it: of all the awards ceremonies, the BAFTAs is hardly the most exciting, and the red carpet even less so. As I said, lots of boring men in boring suits and middle aged women being dressed by stylists who seem to think we’re dead from the neck down by the time we hit 40 and dress us accordingly so. Any hint of a décolletage explicitly forbidden.

There were a few good looks, however. From left to right, above we have Zoe Kravitz in Dior, Rooney Mara in Givenchy and Scarlett Johansson in Versace, who looks so amazing I almost forget that 1). Versace is going down the drain and 2). Scarlett Johansson would stand in front of a forest and take the role of a tree if she could. Which, along with her whole defence of Woody Allen, is really shit-she’s genuinely great in Marriage Story and an otherwise talented actress. As for Zoe Kravitz, she is up there with Robert Pattison as one of my biggest crushes right now and looks amazing in literally everything she wears, and Rooney Mara is consistently low-key yet elegantly dressed.

(L-R: Greta Gerwig in Gucci, Florence Pugh in Dries Van Noten, Renee Zellweger in Prada)

Renee Zellweger proved an exception to the rule when it came to women over the age of 40 generally having clueless stylists-her dress is beautiful, very reminiscent of the delicate, demure beauty of 50s icons such as Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn. Florence’s dress, I actually really loved. It didn’t seem to go down all too well with actual Florence Pugh fans but red and pink together is an elite combo; I’m still firmly on the “surprised that it works but I’m into it” train. I mainly included Greta’s dress for the green velvet, to be honest; it’s disappointingly low-key for Gucci but nice enough all the same.

(L-R: Andrew Scott in Paul Smith, Charlize Theron in Dior, Daisy Ridley in Oscar de la Renta, and Emilia Clarke in Schiaparelli)

I was particularly excited to see Emilia Clarke in Schiaparelli-yes, I adore her because she played Daenerys Targaryen and I was ride or die for that bitch but also whenever I see her interviewed she has the most exuberant energy and honestly I want to be best friends. It’s not the most interesting dress Schiaparelli has ever put out there, but I like the fact that she went for something unique all the same.

Forest green is a colour I find hard to resist which is why I included Andrew Scott’s otherwise kinda basic suit (points for it being velvet) and Daisy Ridley in Oscar de la Renta. As elegant as the dress is, I would love for her stylist to have really leaned into the forest nymph vibes I’m getting and do something a bit less uptight with the hair and makeup; like imagine loose curls with tiny braids and hair rings and a dark lip and a slight smoke around the eye and...yes, I have very specific visions, I know. As for Charlize Theron, her work with Dior is the only reason I care about the brand; there’s definitely a case to be made here for giving Maria Grazia the benefit of the doubt, assuming that she tries all the prototypes on women who look like Charlize and that that’s why she’s happy to send dresses that are otherwise relatively underwhelming down the runway.

The Brit Awards

(L-R: Charli XCX in Fendi, Ellie Goulding in Koche, Hailee Steinfeld in Fendi, and Harry Styles in Gucci)

In my opinion a much better reflection of quintessential British style than the BAFTAs, I originally ruled out including any music award ceremony red carpets in this post until I saw Maya Jama and Charli XCX’s looks. Consider me pleasantly surprised by Hailee Steinfeld’s cobalt blue burnout dress, a classic incarnation of the regal bohemian aesthetic Fendi channelled in their 2019 haute couture show. Plus Charli’s emo take on Glinda the Good Witch is also Fendi, driving home for me just how much I love their collections. I don’t know if I’d be sure about Ellie Goulding’s dress on the rack but the simple styling makes it work and she looks gorgeous, and Harry Styles looks just as pretty in a Gucci look that is MADE for him.

(L-R: Adwoah Aboah in Vivienne Westwood, Celeste in Gucci on the far right! I’m not sure who the guy in the middle is, I’m sorry and if anybody knows drop me a message and I will correct this immediately!)

Unfortunately, Harry Styles and Celeste didn’t get to pose together because this is really a perfect his and hers Gucci look; I feel like seeing one outfit next to the other would really highlight the quirky elegance of each. That being said, it feels criminal to talk about elegance without including Adwoah Aboah in Vivienne Westwood in the sentence; the dress is obviously stunning quality on its own merit, but Adwoah is what elevates it from unremarkable to ethereal. Fuck the weird ass knight figure that’s currently on top of the Brit Award, this woman is the definition of statuesque! Put her on top of the trophy you cowards!

And just to get it out of the way, when it comes to the guy in the middle, to quote Keke Palmer:

Sorry to this man.

Honestly, I saved all the red carpet photos from a Nylon (I think it was Nylon?) article back when the awards aired and towards the end of the photos they stopped including names-this happened a few times when I was looking through red carpet galleries. I reverse image searched where I could but not every photo turned anything up. If anyone does know who this man is, message me so I can include his name. He looks sick, and as far as suits go, this one is built upon and accessorised enough that it’s actually a look rather than the same old variation of a suit we’ve seen a million times before that may as well be the straight man’s designated red carpet uniform.

(L-R: Maya Jama, Neh Neh Cherry in Bottega Veneta, Laura Whitmore)

And now the woman that forced me to include the Brits red carpet in this post in the first place: Maya Jama. Don’t get me wrong, my mind isn’t blown by this dress on its own, I probably prefer Laura Whitmore’s (Jaded do a similar newspaper dress and I’ve resisted adding it to my basket for 6 months now, this is the ultimate test of whether or not I finally cave), but Maya looks fucking MAGNIFICENT. The fit, the gloves, the confidence with which she carries it, it’s all SO good. Considering the timing, this is basically her Princess Diana revenge dress levelled up, 2020′s Jessica Rabbit moment.

(L-R: Maya Jama, Ellie Goulding, Kendall Jenner)

Obviously anything is gonna be a step down from the red carpet look but Maya’s Brits afterparty outfit was cute too, if a tad Pretty Little Thing.

Don’t ask me what Kendall Jenner was doing at the Brits afterparty btw, because I have no idea. We live in a world where the Kardashian-Jenners just seem to occupy every public space possible and I’ve begrudgingly accepted it at this point. I don’t have the energy to question it-and it helps that green catsuit is actually Very Cool™.

For the last of my favourite Brit Awards looks, we have a few more afterparty photos-from left to right we have Charli XCX again, Lizzo, and Anne Marie. It was Charli posting her dress on Instagram that sent me searching for afterparty looks in the first place; apparently wearing nothing but feathers and crystals is something that appeals to me, and the more I read that statement, the more it sounds spot-on. I’d categorise it as gothic glamour hoe, and slot it in with the rest of the night-out clothes in my wardrobe that I think I’ll finally have the balls to wear out of sheer desperation once this lockdown is over. The Blossom to Charli XCX’s Buttercup here, we’ve also got Anne Marie looking extra AF and I loveeeee it; it’s an ensemble somewhere between a high-end version of Alaska Thunderfuck’s candyfloss Sugar Ball dress from season 5 of Drag Race (Alaska DID deserve to win AS2 nation, rise up) and a low-key version of a Katy Perry California Dreams Tour costume. I don’t call it low-key as a drag, just a regretful admission of the fact that maybe wearing a cupcake bra which squirts whipped cream out of the boobs is a bit too much for most of us.

Critic’s Choice Awards

(L-R: Alison Brie in Brandon Maxwell, Chloe Bridges in Azeeza, Cynthia Erivo in Fendi, Florence Pugh in Prada)

I was going to say the Critic’s Choice Awards is kind of America’s version of the BAFTAs but then I remembered that the BAFTAs is really the only big TV and film awards ceremony we have here in the UK and that it’s kind of sad that I have to compare our most high-profile red carpet of the year to L.A’s most low-key one. Getting Cynthia Erivo and Florence Pugh to infiltrate is the best we can do.

THAT BEING SAID!

They both look amazing. This is Florence’s best red carpet look of this year, imo (she the prettiest icicle I’ve ever seen), and Cynthia Erivo’s arm must ache from serving the entire awards season. And in Fendi! Taste!

Side note before we move onto the next set of looks: has anybody else watched Alison Brie in Mad Men and Community simultaneously and experienced the extreme cognitive dissonance that comes from watching her play a tragically nerdy (relatable tbh) 18 year old and an overly-sophisticated 30 something married to an ad man in the 60s at the same time? Weird, but anyway! The orange dress with the red lipstick is channelling Marina Diamandis’ Froot era style subtle sex appeal and is a timeless, playful combo. Put the hair up into a beehive and it’s Megan Draper on a date in Cabo-don’t know much about the place but I know the sea is aqua and the sun seekers are blindingly white and the cocktails are plentiful (and whatever colour you want them to be), and all that together is a juicy palette if we’re talking cinematography. The Mad Men directors are out there somewhere shaking their fists at the sky that they never got to consult me on that, I’m sure.

(L-R: Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Dior, Saoirse Ronan in Erdem and Zendaya in Tom Ford)

Zendaya’s red carpet look was the stand out of the Critic’s Choice Awards for sure; the skirt I can do without but I hope that hot pink metal breastplate ends up on display somewhere because that is ART, and she is the perfect person to wear it. The Tiffany Pollard “she's so powerful” meme was made for this moment.

Also, can we talk about Phoebe Waller-Bridge backing up my Dior 2019 Haute Couture wasn’t *that* bad hypothesis? Because unless I’m mistaken this is one of the dresses from that collection and it is quite beautiful. Yeah, black mesh isn’t going to start a revolution or anything but it’s so delicate looking it almost seems out of place on a red carpet-I don’t know if it’s the structure of the bodice or the tulle but I can totally see this in a gothic ballet, whether that’s sensible in theory or not. Probably not. But then again I did quit ballet when I was 10 after months of getting people to near poke me in the eye on the way out of class so it would look like I’d been crying and I didn’t have to go to my lessons after school. So what do I know? Fuck all, in case that wasn’t clear. I also feel a little vindicated by Saoirse wearing one of the Erdem dresses I loved from last year’s collection-if multi-award winning actress Saoirse Ronan’s probably ridiculously well-paid stylist liked it enough to pick it out for her then I guess I’m doing okay in terms of taste levels.

(L-R: Olivia Wilde in Valentino, Lucy Hale in Miu Miu, Mandy Moore in Elie Saab, and Margaret Qualley in Chanel)

The last few Critics Choice Awards looks I picked out above aren’t thrilling or anything but they’re cute enough to include-from left to right we have Olivia Wilde in Valentino, Lucy Hale in Miu Miu, Mandy Moore in Elie Saab and Margaret Qualley in Chanel. It’s kind of besides the point, but Margaret worked with Chanel throughout awards season and I just wanted to add my two cents in here and say that I think she’s the perfect person to collaborate with (also think Laura Harrier would be a good match, anyone agree?) and that in a similar vein, I urge Miu Miu, the creative directors of which I’m sure are eagerly awaiting the opinion of irrelevant Tumblr user amphtaminedreams, to work with Lucy Hale more often. I feel like if girl stopped starring in those shitty Blumhouse horrors and did something a bit more sophisticated she’d fit the brand right down to a T.

The Golden Globes

(L-R: Cynthia Erivo in Thom Browne, Dakota Fanning in Dior, Jane Levy in Steven Khalil, and Janina Gavankar in Georges Chakra)

Finally! I hear you cry! A more exciting red carpet! It’s not the Oscars, but celebrity stylists still pulled the big guns for this one, the Golden Globes probably being considered the second most prestigious American awards ceremony of the year. Plus Dakota Fanning was there! Big yay for me! She and Elle can practically do no wrong in my eyes and are probably the only 2 women that could take on Dakota Johnson and Jennifer Lawrence when it comes to established red carpet style.

Cynthia Erivo did it again, of course, as slick, as dignified and as regal as she was at the Critic’s Choice. The woman really has got this power stance thing locked down; she always seems so cool and confident in everything she wears that the whole getting dressed up to go out out out (we call going to the club going “out out”, but I’d say a red carpet is a slightly bigger deal than my local club with the sticky floors hence the 3rd out) thing looks like second nature.

(L-R: Zoey Deutch in Fendi, Karamo Brown in Grayscale, Lucy Boynton in Louis Vuitton and Kat Graham in Georges Hobeika)

Lucy Boynton was another of my Golden Globes stand outs, and in general is someone who I really look forward to seeing at red carpet events. She (or her stylist, I don’t know how much of a role she plays!) always seems to commit fully to an outfit and sees it as part of a whole concept where the makeup, hair and accessories are equally as important and that is a girl after my own heart. 60s space age empress is the theme here and I’m all about it-well, either that or a feminine editorial take on the tinman from the Wizard of Oz but the former sounds a bit cooler and does way more justice to how good she looks so we’ll go with that. Quick shoutout to Kat Graham too because she looked absolutely radiant.

(L-R: Shailene Woodley in Balmain, Winnie Harlow in Laquan Smith, and Zoe Kravitz in Saint Laurent)

The trio above I really couldn’t skim over, Winnie Harlow especially; my America’s Next Top Model grudges aside, she consistently turns it out at every event she’s invited to. She’s another woman that wears pieces with such confidence that they look like they were actually made on her body-even if the garment itself isn’t the most breathtaking in the room, she’s the one that draws my attention. Though she’s got these dainty, other-worldly qualities about her, what you’d expect to be a gentle presence is firm and commanding and whilst the sharp drama and glitz of the dress probably helps, that’s just the way Winnie Harlow is naturally, based on her other red carpet appearances.

Zoe Kravitz is an interesting one because, on the one hand, her looking amazing with that bone structure (I would trade a vital organ to look like that any day) is a given, but it does also seem like she went out of her way to do something a bit different this past awards season. I have always loved her street style for its trademark edge and the androgynous, oversized silhouettes that she leans towards, and the overt femininity of her red carpet dresses is that grungy, skater girl aesthetic completely flipped on its head. It’s cute, and if anyone can pull a dress as kitschy as this off, it’s Zoe. She’s got that just rolled out of bed look we all dream of that screams “I’m over this shit” whereas the rest of us have to rely on dark circles to get the message across. It’s very weird to think that she and Shailene Woodley were in Divergent together, especially since Zoe in particular has changed so much since.

My main note with Shailene was just that I got excited to see that Balmain dress off the runway-it was one of my favourites from the S/S 2020 collection (IIRC, mostly on the basis that I’m pretty sure it wan’t haute couture), and it looks good! Not wildly good because I’m not sure the fit of the dress is inherently all that flattering, but still good-she makes it work.

(L-R: Taylor Swift in Etro, Sofia Carson in Giambattista Valli and Scarlett Johansson in Vera Wang)

I know a lot of people online didn’t seem to like Taylor Swift’s dress, but she looks cute, imo. I will say that I’m surprised it’s Etro! At first glance I would’ve thought Carolina Herrera or Oscar de la Renta or something along those lines. And predictably, I think Sofia Carson looks flawless. If you’ve read any of my other posts you’re probably sick of hearing it but I really can’t resist anything that is this modern Disney princess, like powder pink layered tulle? Feathers? What did you expect me to say, ew? I think deep down my clothing preferences will always be that of a 9 year old girl and you know what, that’s okay. Sometimes. Well, when it comes to red carpets. That’s when you can kinda get away with it.

(L-R: Bell Powley in Miu Miu, Billy Porter in Alex Vinash, and Charlize Theron in Dior)

There’s a few things worth mentioning when it comes to the above outfits. Firstly, and most importantly, I need to proclaim my love for Billy Porter. No man is doing it like him, honestly. To compare Harry Styles in his pink suits is unfair. The drama and the beauty and the flair that Billy brings every awards ceremony is on another level and that’s all I have to say about that. If you disagree, I’m gonna need a bullet pointed essay-I am that firm in my opinion.

Second, Bell Powley in Miu Miu semi confirms the direction their PR team tend to head in when choosing women to work with. I might be totally alone here but I feel like she and Lucy Hale both have one of those porcelain doll faces which work really well with Miu Miu’s signature girlish silhouettes and overly-ornate details.

And thirdly, just to restate my earlier point: someone give Charlize Theron a pat on the back for bringing some life to a Dior design. That is all.

(L-R: Jodie Comer in Mary Katrantzou, Joey King in Schiaparelli and Kaitlyn Dever in Valentino)

All the newcomers really turned it out too, which is a sentence I type through gritted teeth; to call Jodie Comer of My Mad Fat Diary origins a newcomer pains the former depressing 2013 black and white Tumblr user in me, though I suppose to the US audiences uncultured in the ways of British teenage angst Vilanelle is her breakthrough role. And how Vilanelle is this dress too!? It’s bold and it’s attention-grabbing and it’s fun and it is definitely very theatrical female fictional villain that you were inexplicably drawn to as a child before you realised why as an adult-”oh, it’s because she was hot”.

Joey King in Iris van Herpen was a pleasant surprise too considering that when I first looked through the red carpet photos I only knew her as the girl who was in that shitty Netflix original-having watched her in The Act, I apologise for the dismissal! And I admire the sartorial choice! I adore Iris van Herpen designs but as a short girl, wearing one of her dresses to a red carpet event is a risky decision-I hate to admit it because casting a diverse range of people for shows is something I have come to expect of my favourite brands, but the appeal of a lot of IvH pieces comes from the movement of the garments on standard willowy runway models. Fortunately, the styling is really complementary here, and whilst it can’t be denied that the dress itself does swamp her a bit, I liked that she and her stylist stepped out of the box.

Kaitlyn Dever’s red carpet look is obviously a lot more typical, but you can't go wrong with a Valentino dress, and this one in particular is so suited to the aura she gives off-it’s young and it’s fun and it’s fresh and the intricate floral print, otherwise muted if not for the spring influenced pops of pink and red, is timelessly pretty.

(L-R: Akwafina in Dior, Saoirse Ronan in Celine, Beanie Feldstein in Oscar de la Renta, and Renee Zellweger in Armani)

Lastly, there was Saoirse Ronan in Celine-one of my highlights of the night; she looked phenomenal, a glacial toned dream, and it was pretty different to what I generally expect to see her in. I might be way off base and in need of a bit of a review of her red carpet style, but I feel like she usually leans more towards pretty than edgy with regards to her styling at these kinds of events and a loose fitting, gun metal glittered slip dress is, imo, the perfect way to hit that previously uncharted midway point between the two.

(L-R: Kate Bosworth in Prabal Gurung, Kathryn Newton in Valentino and Sarah Hyland)

Now onto the afterparty looks, and I’m not gonna lie, they’re usually the highlight of the ceremonies for me; I feel like the initial ceremony is all about looking respectful and maintaining that whole dedicated actor image, whereas it seems the literal point of these showbiz parties is a competition to be the best dressed person in the room. Competition really makes people step their game up, and we always get to see more young talent whose style tends to be more current than that of the people we see on the red carpet.

I’ve got to say, as annoying as I found her character in The Society, I have to overlook that gut instinct of irritation when I see Kathryn Newton and accept how stunning everything going on here is; honestly, she looks like an angel, and I feel like the team at Valentino must reeeeally like her to put her in that dress.

(L-R: Alexa Demie, Ashley Benson in Georges Hobeika, Maude Apatow and Barbie Ferreira)

Obviously I was super excited to see the Euphoria girls on the red carpet, especially Alexa Demie-she does 90s/early noughties inspired glamour better than anyone else on the young actor scene right now and her personal style and the sass she does so well as Maddy Perez shines through every time. Whilst Barbie Ferreira’s look is more casual and achievable for the rest of us in terms of wearability, it’s just as interesting a take on the same period; the delicate pink makeup, hair and jewellery with the 90s inspired slip dress in light teal is a red carpet take on soft grunge for the ages. As for Ashley Benson, she always looks gorgeous and that’s all I’m gonna say before I get emotional and start going into a rant about how her and Cara Delevigne’s relationship was one of the only good things about this shitshow of a year and how now that they’ve broken up the single flame of hope inside me has been extinguished and how their sex swing is gonna get so lonely with them caught in the middle of an ugly custody battle and-

You get the idea.

(L-R: Storm Reid, Sophia Bush in John Paul Ataker, and Sydney Sweeney)

(L-R: Billie Lourd, Paris Hilton, and Camila Morrone)

The Oscars

(L-R: Charlize Theron in Dior, Cynthia Erivo, and Florence Pugh in Louis Vuitton)

Ah, the Oscars. This is where the big money is really spent, and bad decisions are made-in fairness, this year’s winners were a lot more satisfying than usual and I think all of us felt that Parasite was a well-deserved win. I really thought it was gonna be Once Upon a Time in Hollywood just as a bit of a token gesture to Tarantino considering it’s his 9th film, though undoubtedly his worst of the ones I’ve seen, so I was relieved that this wasn’t the case. That being said, it still pains me to see the horror genre being ignored by the academy-in my mind, Florence is here for her performance in Midsommar just as much as Little Women.

At the risk of getting repetitive, just assume my opinions on Charlize Theron in Dior here are the same again, that Cynthia Erivo is still bringing goddess energy (this is probably my favourite of her looks), and that against the opinion of the masses, Florence looks divine in this colour. I mean, when I say the masses I just mean the people I follow on Twitter, but still, I just wanted be an excuse to be dramatic so that I could insert a meme.

(L-R: Natalie Portman in Dior, Regina King in Versace, Scarlett Johansson in Oscar de la Renta, and Sandra Oh in Elie Saab)

Once again, Scarlett Johansson’s stylist is doing God’s work; this outfit is everythingggg-the Oscar de la Renta dress is probably my favourite thus far. Like we’re talking angel, but make it fitted and sexy, and I hope you read that in the Tyra Banks voice I intended because 2 memes in a row would rob me of any credibility I’m building as a fashion account and I’m not ready to trash that for bad memes just yet; give it a couple of mental breakdowns and I’ll be there. Natalie Portman’s look was a favourite of mine too, with the cape over the top adding a sophisticated touch to the celestial, slightly bohemian feel of the dress. I initially found the detail of the names embroidered into said cape to be quite moving-in a dream world, directing would be my career of choice and so I really admired the statement-but finding out that Portman herself is the only director hired by her own production company ruined that for me a little bit. Then again, multi-millionaire celebrities making performative gestures for good publicity and not doing all that much to make any real change? Colour me shocked.

(L-R: Beanie Feldstein in Miu Miu, Brie Larson in Celine and Billie Eilish in Chanel)

Now, of all the Miu Miu looks so far, I think Beanie Feldstein definitely got the best one. The intricacy of the embroidery, the silhouette, the old Hollywood stye curls-it’s all so graceful. I’d say this is probably her best look of awards season and she and her stylist did a really great job.

And as for Billie Eilish...Guys...do you think she might be wearing...Chanel...by any chance? I’m not sure.

Seriously though, as far as an oversized tweed suit with the brand’s logo emblazoned all over it goes, I like this look. The acid green roots and the jewellery are what make it for me, adding to the grunginess of the outfit which is interesting against Chanel’s prim and proper aesthetic of the last few years. I know she has good reason for the way she dresses, but I’ve never quite been able to appreciate it-this outfit proves to me that her style doesn't automatically equal ugly and occasionally, she can make it work.

(L-R: Leona Lewis, Colton Haynes, Dita von Teese)

Elton John’s Oscars afterparty being the less exciting of the two big ones in terms of fashion-the other being the Vanity Fair afterparty which I’ll cover in a moment-I thought I’d whizz through it (posturing aside though, I bet Sir Elton’s party was a lot more fun).

(L-R: Chiara Ferragni, Donatella Versace, Bella Thorne)

This is a big statement considering Alexa Demie attended, but I think Chiara’s outfit and overall styling might be my favourite of the partygoers; if they decided to do a live action Barbie film in 2020 minus the PG ratio-because lets be real, she’d be a noughties Paris Hilton type and get up to some SHENANIGANS-this is the look that would become iconic.

(L-R: Ashley Greene in Off-White, Alexa Demie, Sydney Sweeney, Annalynne McCord)

It was a hard decision to make though: I’m just as into Sydney Sweeney’s interpretation of burlesque come 1950s red carpet Barbie, Ashley Greene’s surprisingly delicate Off-White number, and Alexa’s dress and (as always) impeccable styling. That being said, Chiara’s clearest contender here for the best dressed of the night is Annalynne McCord. I know I'm one to throw similes around but she looks like an ACTUAL Disney princess-the dress is magical and an absolutely flawless fit. She carries it with such grace. I'm truly in love.

(L-R: Tessa Thompson in Versace, Vanessa Hudgens in Vera Wang, SZA)

As for the Vanity Fair Oscars afterparty, there were SO many iconic moments this year. SZA was the definition of the fire emoji, Tessa Thompson’s throwback Versace was the mermaid’s take on BDSM fashion I never knew I need to see, and I’d die to turn up to my graduation ceremony (here’s hoping for a successful attempt at the old uni shebang this time, lol) looking as elegant and simultaneously extra as Vanessa Hudgens did in Vera Wang. I mean, this was before Vanessa went on her dumb Instagram live corona rant because she was upset she couldn’t go to Coachella and I still kinda lived for her, mostly because of moments like this. She’s always been the queen of channelling a more hedonistic, carefree era and this dress is the most refined example of that boho decadence yet. It sounds dramatic to say but the rich purple is such a bold choice considering it’s a a colour we rarely see on the red carpet but now I’ve seen eggplant coloured silk I need it, lol.

(L-R: Suki Waterhouse in Fendi, Lili Reinhart in Marc Jacobs, Lucy Boynton and Margaret Qualley in Chanel)

Then there was Suki, Lilly, Lucy and Margaret as well who all went full angel mode in some of my favourite runway looks of last summer’s haute couture week; Suki’s Fendi dress and Lili’s Marc Jacobs number were highlights of both their shows and there’s something even more magical about them both when the uniformity of the runway is removed. I also would go on about how much I love Lucy Boynton’s style for the millionth time but I think you get my point.

(L-R: Nicole Richie, Cynthia Erivo, Hunter Schafer, Billie Porter)

The more I look at the photos I saved from the Vanity Fair “red” carpet, the more I come to the firm conclusion that these looks are my favourite as a collective. Along with the elegance and sex appeal of the outfits above, we’ve got all these looks too which are so VIBRANT and fun and experimental. Billie Porter is absolutely majestic and continues his reign as the king of in-your-face, theatrical red carpet style, and Hunter and Cynthia look so radiant. Whilst Nicole’s look isn’t as colourful, she still brought drama with the satin gloves and the smoke lined eyes, and she is definitely ready to step on someone’s neck here.

(L-R: Halima Aden, Ella Balinska in Schiaparelli, Emma Roberts, Ciara)

(L-R: Kiki Layne in Michael Kors, Kim Kardashian in Alexander McQueen, Kylie Jenner in Ralph and Russo, Lashana Lynch in Michael Kors)

(L-R: Rowan Blanchard in Iris van Herpen, Rosie Huntington-Whiteley, Stella Maxwell, and Sarah Paulson with Holland Taylor)

I’ve got to say, it’s really cool to see Rowan Blanchard in Iris van Herpen too; it’s interesting that as far as I know, she and Joey King were the only ones to wear her this awards season, both being up and coming actresses. It would be a good choice for the brand, probably best known for its futuristic, conceptual aesthetic, to also focus its PR efforts on the young potential inheriting that future. Orrrr it could just be that Rowan, Joey and I have the same (good, lol) taste-not gonna lie, from my experience of stalking her instagram Rowan Blanchard does make some unique fashion choices and her feed is full of bold outfit inspiration.

(L-R: Adriana Lima in Ralph and Russo, Alessandra Ambrosio in Armani, Billie Eilish in Gucci, and Donatella Versace in Versace)

Then there’s Billie Eilish, who is really on another level. This is her second custom made baggy suit of the night, this time Gucci. IMAGINE. Chanel and Gucci making custom pieces to suit your very specific style. Again, though, I really like this; whilst it’s very clearly a Billie outfit, it’s got a level of sophistication, cohesiveness and glamour to it that takes it to that I can admire.

(L-R: Camila Mendes in Moschino, Barbara Palvin and Dylan Sprouse, and Chiara Ferragni)

Honestly, the Vanity Fair red carpet really belonged to young talent this year, and Camila Mendes in one of my favourite Moschino looks from the Picasso collection really seals it. She could’ve just gone for a basic pretty dress-this isn’t a natural choice-but she really does have the proud, regal look of a woman who knows some man is gonna paint her a portrait that will end up in a famous gallery one day.

One last thing before I move on, though. How the fuck does Chiara Ferragni get everywhere?! And by that I don’t mean how does she get invited, I had the shock of finding out this woman I followed on Instagram because I liked her outfits and thought she was pretty is a hugely successful businesswoman in Italy long ago. Power to her. She’s a big deal! I get it! I just mean, physically HOW? How do you hit Elton John’s party AND the Vanity Fair party in one night and look this good? God really does have favourites, huh. Well, I guess in this hypothetical scenario where I believe in him anyway.

The SAG Awards

(L-R: Dakota Fanning in Valentino, Kaitlyn Dever in Ralph Lauren, Scarlett Johansson in Armani, and Zoe Kravitz in Oscar de la Renta)

So, I kinda forgot the SAG awards existed and thought that my post was basically finished before I looked in my folder and saw the one dedicated to this ceremony. My initial reaction was like “oh, this is the shitty Oscars, right?” and I assumed the red carpet would be shit and that I could call it a night-it’s 3:30am, I wish I was calling it a night-but then I looked and saw that I had even more outfit photos saved in that folder than I did for my Oscar dedicated one. Because fuck, I want to to sleep, but the SAG awards had a surprisingly good turn out?! So maybe not as irrelevant a ceremony as I thought? Because Dakota Fanning turned up looking like some divine mythical being again, Scarlett Johansson pulled another incredible look out the bag, Zoe Kravitz was a modernised Audrey Hepburn, and Kaitlyn Dever read my comments about her dress being “timelessly pretty” and said “bitch, you really thought” before showing up looking hot as fuck. Truth be told, I think the SAG awards were first but in this universe where Kaitlyn Dever would pay any attention to my opinion of her outfit do we really care?

(L-R: America Ferrera, Andrew Scott in Azzaro Couture, Camila Mendes in Ralph and Russo, Caleb McLaughlin )

(L-R: Lupita Nyongo in Louis Vuitton, Lily Allen, Nathalie Emmanuel in Miu Miu, Cynthia Erivo in Schiaparelli)

See, I was going to make a comment above how I took back what I said about Camila Mendes not just going for pretty dresses (which I guess I just did here instead-JUST TO BE CLEAR SHE STILL LOOKS STUNNING) and then I uploaded the next photo set and got distracted by 2 things:

1. How weird it is that British legend Lily Allen, who does not get NEAR enough credit for her smart her songs were might I add, is dating David Harbour AKA. Hopper off Stranger Things!?

2. How mad I still am about Game of Thrones and how dirty the writers did Nathalie Emmanuel (and Emilia Clarke and Lena Heady and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau and basically everyone else on that show but that’s another story).

In this same universe where Kaitlyn Dever cares about my opinion can we make the issues I have in the last bullet point not exist? Please?

(L-R: Sophie Turner in Louis Vuitton, Renee Zellweger in Maison Margiela, Phoebe Waller-Bridge in Armani, and Renee Bargh)

(L-R: Gwendoline Christie in Rick Owens, Madeline Brewer in Monique Lhuillier, Kathryn Newton in Valentino, and Lili Reinhart in Miu Miu)

Finishing off the SAG looks, we’ve got the four above.

Once again, Kathryn Newton was Valentino’s blushing crown jewell; Allie Pressman hate aside, she really is the perfect dressing up doll for the brand. Fresh faced and poised, she has all the elegance and gentle femininity necessary to make floating down the runway as Valentino models do look natural, and Lili Reinhart did an equally good job being a Miu Miu girl. She makes that idiosyncratic cutesy-ness work, all the frills and fragility of a china tea set look easy where I’d just look like I’d been consumed by a charity shop doily. Madeline Brewer did a good job too, helping a Monique Lhuillier design pop in a way that it doesn’t usually. When your hair is bright red and your dress cerulean blue, coral tinted lipstick is a *ahem* choice, buuut in this case it paid off because the result is a look which demanded my attention-ML dresses are reliably pretty, however, they tend to be predictable. Madeline and her styling did a good job subverting that formula. To end the section, though, I feel it’s only fair to save my fave woman til last-probably one of the few people in the world that isn’t a Rick Owens model that can pull off his designs. Ofc, I’m talking about the queen that is Gwendoline Christie. If we’re talking embodying brands, she did justice like nobody else could to the spectacle of Owens’ formidable, out-of-this-world aesthetic. This is her version of the princess moment, and when you’re as striking as she is, nothing less would do.

At least my girl Brienne of Tarth is thriving<3

The Grammys

(L-R: Ariana Grande in Giambattista Valli, Cardi B in Mugler, and Pia Mia in Julien Macdonald)

TBH, like I said with the Brits, I never planned to do any music award ceremony red carpets, just because I feel like the fashion tends to be more geared towards a younger audience buuuut I’m kinda glad I changed because Ariana looks INCREDIBLE. MESMERISING. TRANSCENDENT. JFC. There’s a reason the photo of her on her Wiki page has been changed to one from this night and it’s because she looks absolutely exquisite, like some kind of moon goddess with an R&B touch which I suppose is kind of her brand? Sometimes I go kind of lukewarm on Giambattista Valli and forget how mystical but at the same time frothy and indulgent and all around luxurious the pieces can be. This is a cupcake of a dress and I want to eat it. Cardi B has become a bit of an unexpected fashion icon and Pia Mia looks as hot-party-girl as ever but I feel to put anyone next to Ariana in this dress seems harsh because she just completely stole the show and I don’t even know if she won any Grammys.

(L-R: Josephine Relli, Gwen Stefani, Jameela Jamil in Georges Chakra, and Chrissy Teigen in Yanina Couture)

Other than Ariana, I’m not gonna lie, there was nothing wildly exciting, BUT I did think there were some beautiful colours out on the runway-plus for all her occasionally bad takes I really like what Jameela Jamil stands for and her style has always been very quirky cool. The electric blue tiled effect with the black mesh underneath kinda reminds me of a peacock, and contrasts wonderfully with the carpet-it’s very reminiscent of her T4 days. She’s one of those people that seems to get aggression directed at her that’s completely disproportionate to whatever it is she’s supposed to have done; sometimes the way she goes about saying things is wrong but the intention behind what she’s saying is usually good. Then again, the internet still despises Chrissy Teigen (in a way that’s kind of excessive considering what we seem to collectively let some people get away with) for a dumb AirPods tweet and I’ve included her too. THIS IS NOT A POLITICAL STATEMENT, this time anyway. I just think she looks good!

If I’m going to get controversial about anything, it’ll be Gwen Stefani. She looks stunning, the dress is stunning, and the boots are stunning. The outfit is not my problem! My problem is how she seems not to have aged at all. This woman is 50 years old! That she drank the blood of her Harajuku girls is the only explanation here. Can you imagine if she tried to pull that shit today? She’d get rightly accused of being a culturally appropriating weeb in about 10 seconds flat and we’d have to pretend to stop liking Cool and Hollaback Girl.

(L-R: Finneas O’Connell in Gucci, Lucky Daye, and Shaun Ross)

(L-R: Tess Holliday, Dua Lipa in Alexander Wang, Tyler the Creator, and Grace Elizabeth in Giuseppe di Morabito)

Back to what I’m supposed to be talking about in this blog post: the fashion. And here, most importantly, Tyler the Creator looking like a cast member of the Grand Budapest Hotel. IDK why. But I love this man.

(L-R: Lil Nas X in Versace, Lizzo in Versace, and Shawn Mendes in Louis Vuitton)

(L-R: Billie Porter, FKA Twigs in Ed Marler, and Swae Lee in Giuseppe Zanotti)

See in general, the men were a lot more interesting on the Grammys red carpet. With the exception of Twigs, Dua and obviously Ariana, the men’s outfits are a lot more memorable; Billie Porter became the most fashionable meme on the internet, for god’s sake. And even when their outfits weren’t extravagant, they were just more interesting, imo, which is a rare occurrence. I didn’t expect Finneas O’Connell to be the writing half of Billie Eilish (the other half being Billie herself) I cared about and yet, in that Gucci blazer, here we are.

(L-R: Jessie J, Hailee Steinfeld, and Madison Beer)

(L-R: H.E.R, Usher, FKA Twigs, and Matt Shultz)

Of the afterparty looks, my favourites are what we can see of these more casual outfits-I love what F.K.A Twigs and H.E.R are wearing, the headscarf with the leatherjacket on top is in particular very throwback rockabilly, and I’m even into whatever it is Usher’s got on.

(L-R: Olivia O’Brien, Amine, and Alrissa)

(L-R: Salem Mitchell, Machine Gun Kelly, and Sydney Sweeney)

Now, how to round this all up!? How to relate the confusingly persistent but very welcome presence of Sydney Sweeney on, like, ALL these red carpets back to the MET!?

IDEK. It’s been a long year.

The Met Gala has usually come and gone before we know it, but with everything going on, it’s been the longest January-May I think most of us have ever known. I keep going on about COVID-19 in all my posts now but I have almost forgotten how to write an intro and outro because the pandemic is pretty much consistently on the brain and unless I have something right in front of me to use as a distraction, my mind tends to wander off into a very anxious place. I think, like many others, I feel frustrated and disappointed and angry with the way the situation is being handled by the people who are supposed to protect their citizens, and by how much of a fight some are putting up against measures that are in place to try and save lives. The point of this ramble, I guess, is that whilst we should never forget what’s going on and do the best we can to help prevent the spread of the virus, it’s okay to still care about mundane shit. Was this post one big long distraction for me? Probably. But if there’s something harmless you can do to keep your anxiety at bay, don’t feel bad for doing it. Contrary to popular belief, you can care about more than one thing at once. You can be sad that something you were looking forward to has been cancelled whilst still being sad for the people who are suffering because they’ve lost love ones or who have been forced into precarious living conditions. If talking about clothes on the internet is going to help you get through this pandemic, power to you.

If anyone has read til the end, thank you! I hope you are well! As always, feel free to reply to the post or inbox me with your thoughts! It doesn’t even have to be related to this post. If you’re struggling with everything going on, feel free to reach out too. I spend too much time on the internet anyway, lol! My plans are to finish my fashion week reviews and then I have a Lana Del Rey albums inspired lookbook which I pinched off the stans on Twitter (who I will of course credit when I write it!). For the time being, look after yourselves!

Lauren x

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mountain-ash-and-rusted-iron · 4 years

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this is an oc masterpost of all my haf-formed ocs languishing on pinterest with their messy aesthetics and unedited blurbs, in roughly chronological order of their creation, plus sorted by fandom. this post is only asoiaf, harry potter, hunger games, and riverdale, cos i have tooooooo many original characters otherwise and the post was getting incredibly long. (note that i love my ocs but these one’s are not polished or even the final versions of their characters, i just wanted to post them lol)

under a read more, if you’re on mobile start scrolling i guess, sorry,,,

Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire:

Laeya Targeryen: (child of Rhaella and Aerys Targaryen, born 280 AC - three years older than Danaerys)

Fearful of her impending marriage, Laeya is eleven when she takes her younger sister and flees across the sea to Dorne, hiding herself and Dany with dyed hair and badly controlled magic. As Leia and Dani Sand they learn to live normally. At 15 Leia joins the Royal Guard and secures Dany work as a tailor's apprentice. When she is 17, an assassin tries to kill her in front of the Dornish court and everything changes...

- so laeya straight up has magic, which im considering an extension of the dragon thing dany has - she can control flame and for the disguise uses her ‘inner fire’ to make her eyes white-blue like super hot flames, cos the purple eyes are super distinctive. and then she’s discovered and suddenly politics are happening. honestly she’s entirely a way for me to remove the child marriage bits of the targaryen storyline (stop marrying off your twelve-year-old baby sister viserys u asshole) - in terms of meta/basics, laeya doesn’t have a fc cos most of my early ocs don’t, and bcs i picture her as emilia clarke with faked dark hair and blue eyes lol

and a quick aesthetic below:

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Kyrra Snow: (child of Robert Baratheon and Maery Snow, birthdate ???)

Kyrra Snow is the eldest natural-born child of Robert Baratheon, current King of Westeros, and daughter of Maery Snow, a Southron (but Northern-born) merchant woman. After her mother realises Kyrra was growing up a little too much like her father in looks and needed to leave the far South before she caught the wrong sort of attention, Kyrra was sent off to travel with her aunt and cousins. She is 17 and heading further north, to Winter Town, when Jon Arryn dies.

- kyrra’s another child of everyone’s favourite asshole king, and she’s got a lot of people after her head, but she just wants to travel and continue her work as a simple peddler. (riiip poor girl) honestly she’s not that developed but yolo -

aes:

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Brynn Stark: (child of Catelyn and Eddard Stark, Robb’s twin sister)

Brynn believes in honour and family, and she is loyal to Winterfell and the North above all else. Likes - archery, embroidery and weaving. Betrothed to [some young Northern lord] to keep the bonds between the Norther families strong.

-i basically made brynn as a contrast to sansa’s pro-southnness and excessive femininity and arya’s anger and desire for swords (relatable mood tho lmao). so brynn is here to mediate, extoll the virtues of both needlework and weapons, make a decent marriage to someone she likes, if not loves, and hold down the fort in the North while shit gets increasingly messier in the South. and a possible faceclaim is Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey -

aes:

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Rosienne Lannister: (child of Joanna and Tywin Lannister, born 273 AC)

Rose is looked at by the realm with dismissal, a consolation prize for her father, a spare daughter only useful for matchmaking, but at least able-bodied and pretty, unlike her brother. After a long betrothal, Rose is married to Willas Tyrell at the age of eighteen, cementing her role as the next Lady of High Garden...

- Rosie/Rose is a bonus Lannister, bcs why not. likes cyvasse and the harp, soft and kind and maternal, powerful in her own way. originally she was from a minor divergence where joanna survives tyrion’s birth and goes on to have another kid, but not sure if i’ll keep that aspect, so for now she’s tyrion’s twin -

and her aes (yes that quote is cropped, no i don’t care rn):

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honourable mentions to my other got underdeveloped got/asoiaf ocs who need more effort before i post properly about them:

Tamlen Storm, a rookery apprentice (working for the Maester of House Tully, managing the ravens) who may or may not be a reincarnated si-oc trying to save westeros,

and an unnamed northern huntress who stumbled into the plot somehow and wants her normal life back (entirely inspired by Keira Knightley as Gwyn in Princess of Thieves, when she’s doing archery stuff and looking v butch).

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Harry Potter:

Taurus ‘Ara’ Lestrange: (child of Bellatrix and Roldolphous Lestrange, born 1978)

Raised by the Goblins after a legal mix-up following her parents' imprisonment in Azkaban, Taurus is good with a sword and aiming to be the next Minister of Magic. She attends Hogwarts with the other magical kids her age, under the fake identity Ara Burke, unknown cousin of a minor half-blood family. When the Potter brat’s drama starts destroying her change at an education just as her fourth year, her OWL prep year, begins, Ara intervenes.

- im tangentially aware that as bellatrix’s kid she’s almost occupying the place of whats-her-name from the cursed child, but considering that i know nothing about the cursed child and don’t care about it anyway, i have elected to ignore this. her actual parent might turn out to be some smitten half-blood from a minor branch of the Greengrass family, or it might actually be Rodolphous, who knows. slightly inspired by the fic ‘Harry Crow’ (by robst on ff.net) where harry is raised by the goblins -

messy aes:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Valerian Potter: (child of Lily and James Potter, born 1980)

After the Potter twins’ parents are murdered by Voldemort, they’re dumped on the doorstep of Number 4, Privet Drive. Dealing with two traumatised magical orphans, Petunia and Vernon Dursley turn to violence and neglect to stay in control, acting far more harshly than expected. With the arrival of two Hogwarts letters, life gets complicated incredibly quickly. (Self-sufficient and scarred from abuse, Val and Harry are immediately Sorted into Slytherin).

- val’s fic is basically an angst fest, okay,,, -

aes:

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and shout-outs to: holly addison potter, a half-baked reincarnation si-oc (i love that concept a lot, can u tell) and my fav girl thea dursley, who already has her own fic and so isn’t getting a proper spot in this post

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The Hunger Games:

Asher: (District Two, age 18)

[rip no blurb for asher]

-asher is a career from two, who wins the 70th games. mostly im focusing on her recovery and how the games function in two, with training volunteers and mentoring and collecting sponsors, plus eventually the rebellion. lots of the D2 headcanon i have is inspired by @/lorata but i defintely made a distinct effort to have my own stuff, cos where’s the fun in plagiarism -

aes for Asher’s Games:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Rowan Everdeen: (District Twelve, age 19)

Rowan will do anything to protect her family. This extends to going to Head Peacekeeper Cray on a cold winters night, charging the most she can get for her virginity. It extends to Reaping Day, when she steps out in front of the crowd and says “I volunteer as tribute” in the steadiest voice she can muster. It extends to clawing her way out of the Arena, bloody and exhausted, with blades in her hands and violence kept tucked behind her teeth. It extends further, to a simple ‘Yes, President Snow’ when he coldly, carefully implies her family might meet with an accident if she doesn’t play the good little Victor (and fuck the people who pay the Capitol for her company). It extends to joining the Rebellion, to looking President Coin directly in the eye and agreeing to be a Mockingjay, a symbol for the people to rally around.

- another everdeen kiddo! as the big sister, rowan volunteers for prim, and goes through the Games - she’s a healer and a hunter, and a decent enough actor that she can manage interviews and a camera presence, unlike katniss. rowan also pairs well with a minor au i have, where the reapings are spaced out over a week and official training is a longer, giving the capitol a nice, long buildup to get excited and place bets, etc., and giving the poor, underfed tributes from the outer districts a better chance, which makes for more interesting television and better Games -

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Adrasteia Crane: (The Capitol, age 28) Unlike her big brother, Adrasteia doesn’t want to be a Gamemaker. Instead, she wants to create clothes, artwork, to enrapture the Capitol. She wants to be a Games stylist. After years of design school, of working her way up the ranks, first a PA’s assistant, and then fetching and carrying for Twelve’s prep team, and then eventually on a prep team for the dull tributes from Six, Adrasteia Crane finally has what she wants - the position of stylist for District Three’s male tribute in 74th Hunger Games.

- tbh adrasteia is only seneca crane’s sister because i couldn’t think of a suitable last name for her lmao. i think i’d actually prefer her to be unattached to any major canon players. however, his death is a good motivation for her to join the rebellion, so we’ll see. she’s got a bit of the capitol fashion thing going too, with soft pink hair and diamond-effect skin on her face and shoulders -

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also bonus hunger games content: another oc, Sarsaparilla Verran, from District Eleven, fifteen and alone when she goes into the Games. An orphan, her siblings lost to the Community Home system years ago, her relatives dead or uncaring. So, Rilla is a wee lonely bab tbh. she did not want this, unlike most of my other hg ocs, and she’s not excited for weeks of murder. she just wants her family back, but since that isn’t possible, she’ll build a new family instead. and uuhhhhh, spoiler alert, she dies before she can have this ://///

and my hunger games aus - a canon divergence where katniss joins the careers instead of peeta, her desire to go home to her family outweighing her reactive hate for the concept of training/volunteering to kill other teens, and a fem!Haymitch au where she’s a little wiser to the dark side of the capitol before she commits acts of rebellion (she still rebels anyway tho, just smarter).

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Riverdale:

Cat Cooper: (middle child of Alice and Hal Cooper) Cat Cooper (17) is the black sheep of the Cooper family. Her piercings, brightly dyed hair and connections to the Southside Serpents make her the odd one out among her sisters and constantly at odds with Alice Cooper. Cat’s life is occupied with her Serpent friends, work at a local coffee shop, and training - martial arts, supplemented with cross country, gymnastics and swimming. Until her older sister is shipped off to places unknown and her baby sister starts getting caught up in murder investigation with the absent Serpent heir...

- haven’t decided between Catelyn or Catherine for Cat’s full name lmao. she used to be Kit, actually, but I changed it cos i prefer Kit to solely be my divergent oc (kit serafim). Cat is an ADHD disaster who loves her sisters and her friends and wants to get the hell out of Riverdale on a sports scholarship (she does either boxing or karate mainly, need to figure that bit out) -

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Georgie Andrews: (child of Mary and Fred Andrews)

Georgie likes soft drinks, cheerleading, and hanging out with the Blossom twins and Polly Cooper, their closest friends and a welcome distraction from their own problems. After Polly and Jason vanish, Georgie’s support system is almost gone, and they has to deal with everything they’ve been bottling up, just in time for Fred Andrews to get shot.

- also just angst ngl. so georgie’s gender is basically ???, they enjoy cheerleading and not much else. they spend half their time dealing with depression, by trying to ignore stressful/hard topics and focus on the good side of everything. this isn’t a great long-term coping mechanism and has the fun side effect of pissing of the people around him when she seems unable to be serious or empathetic to someone else's pain (bcs she’s too busy deflecting for the sake of her own fragile mental health), so it gets fun when fred is shot and archie starts getting in too deep with the lodges -

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Sera Thornstone: (parents ???) Southside Serpent. Going to the Riverdale Community College and running errands for FP Jones. And secretly meeting up with her Ghoulie lover down by the Sweetwater where nobody goes.

- everything about sera is vague and undecided lmao. but she has a ghoulie gf/bf/nbf? and they’re hiding that they were down by the river on the 4th of july, cos a serpent is an immediate suspect. going to community college to work on getting general credits before saving up for fancy school for law or journalism. the aes isn’t entirely accurate cos sera’s built from the remains of another serpent oc who i scrapped (she does have a baseball bat tho) -

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and honourable mentions to jen johnson and octavia blossom-murphy, my other riverdale ocs who actually have content, plus an in-development unnamed oc who gets adopted from the soqm by the Muggs family and growsup with Ethel. and my riverdale role reversal au, which i will never write but have some nice aesthetics for under the tag wip: bughead role reversal au.

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all my mini-aesthetics here are unsourced images/from pinterest. any similarities to other people or characters, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

alrighty that’s it. now i have to tag this behemoth argh

#ocapp #ashandrustediron ocs #ashandrustediron edits #i say edits #i mean neatly cropped screenshots #lmao #fandom: harry potter #fandom: the hunger games #fandom: a song of ice and fire #fandom: game of thrones #fandom: riverdale #ashandrustrediron writes #time to tag the ocs who will actually get content later #oc: rosienne lannister #oc: tamlen storm #tam actually has a fic outline unlike most of these other westerosi ocs lol #oc: ara lestrange #oc: asher #no last name bcs volunteers from two don't have last names #they belong to the capitol and their district #<- fun fact about that fic i guess #oc: rowan everdeen #oc: adrasteia crane #none of the riverdale ocs will get a tag bcs i already have riverdale oc fic im working on #long post #long post cw #oh and some warnings for the stuff brushed upon in the blurbs i guess #gender dysphoria #violence #child marriage

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ladyalice101 · 5 years

Text

@abi117 shared this article with me the other day, and I immediately thought of the leaked set photos where jon knelt to Cersei .. and then I thought of the kidnap plot .. and then .... my fingers slipped.

read on ao3.

don’t blame me, love made me crazy

Jon is very sure that, if she’s still alive, Sansa will be furious with him.

There is very little that is more important to Sansa than Northern Independence – as she has made abundantly clear over the past few moons – including her own life.

But to Jon, nothing is more important than Sansa.

As the ash and smoke had cleared after the Battle for Winterfell, as the bodies were collected and moved and burnt in pyres, as Jon had searched everywhere for his beautiful sister-cousin, it had slowly become clear that she wasn’t to be found.

The castle had been thrown into a frenzy when they’d realised that Sansa was neither in Winterfell nor amongst the dead, and it wasn’t for three days that they’d learnt what had become of her.

The scroll Cersei had sent had also held a lock of Sansa’s fiery hair, and as the meeting of the Lords raged around him as they all debated on what to do, Jon had been unable to speak or listen as he’d stared at the etches in the wooden table and imagined all of the terrible things Cersei would be doing to her.

All it took was one foolish Lord to suggest that they leave the Lady Sansa in King’s Landing, because after all they still have their King and no Dragon Queen to worry about – “so why bother sending our exhausted men across the country to retrieve one woman who’s probably dead anyway?” – for Jon to stand from his chair. It had scraped across the floor and sent every single man silent, including that who had dared to suggest they leave Sansa in Cersei’s clutches. Jon didn’t know who he was, still doesn’t, but his face is memorised so that when Jon gets back he’ll have his head.

Jon knows – gods, he knows – that he is playing right into Cersei’s hands, probably even better than she’d imagined. He knows that he’s in no state of mind for this, because he’ll likely pay any price Cersei demands of him if she lets Sansa go free.

Any political savvy Jon had had within him had died with Daenerys.

He is too exhausted now to do much other than climb atop the only dragon that remained in the world and fly south.

He’d intended to ride a horse, but the thought of Sansa in King’s Landing for longer than the two days it will take him to fly down . . . he would have killed three horses and near on himself, if he’d had to, but he has a dragon now and so he goes as quick as he can.

By the time he arrives in King’s Landing, he’s slept only for a minute or two here and there in the two days it took him to fly, and perhaps even less than that in the days before, when he had no idea where she was and every time he’d closed his eyes to sleep all he could see was the variety of ways she might be being tortured.

Jon had hoped that he was stronger than this, but – when he stumbles into the Throne Room of the Red Keep, sleep deprived and sick to his stomach with guilt and worry and fear, he catches sight of Sansa gagged and bound by Cersei’s side, her red hair sheared to her jaw and a bruise blooming across her cheek, and he immediately falls to his knees.

Cersei doesn’t even need to smile her cruel, vicious smile for Jon to know that he has already lost.

Sansa may hate him for this, for how quickly and easily he has revealed his desperation, but he can’t care. Not when he wants her to leave with her life. Above all else, that’s what matters to him: that she’s alive, and home.

Because despite it all, despite the whispers that have followed him since he came back to life that claim him a god, or the praise that he is the greatest swordsman to ever live, or the stories he knows are shared that always, always glorify his battles and make them seem easier than they were, make it out like he brought victory when really it was sheer luck; despite it all, he is just a man, who is in love with a woman, and who couldn’t bear to see her die.

“Please,” he croaks, eyes downcast in that way that he has learnt so well since becoming acquainted with Daenerys, “please, let her go. I’ll give you anything.”

He hears Cersei stand, but he daren’t look up at her. Her feet come into his line of vision, her black dress swirling around her shoes, and still he stays prostrated before her.

Pathetic, perhaps, and certainly not the man he was raised to be but - . . . he doesn’t know what else to do, and he’s far past gambling with Sansa’s life. He has known nothing but keeping her safe and protected since he emerged into this cursed second life, and has committed each act he has with only one goal in mind.

I’ll protect you, I promise.

“Your miserable grovelling has made this much less satisfying than I’d hoped it would, bastard.”

Jon stays quiet.

He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, all he wants is Sansa in his arms, and then back in Winterfell (for surely Cersei will not let them both leave, and Jon made his peace with dying in the South the moment he stepped foot on Dragonstone and Daenerys had his boat taken away).

“You’re just like your father,” Cersei says, a haughty tone to her voice. “You have a dragon to bargain with, to threaten me with, and yet you’ve still come here with the hope that your desperate words will convince me to set her free?”

Jon wonders how this might have ended, if he’d come to Cersei with the determination of fire and blood rather than the melancholy of his true House, and he knows that he could never have condemned a whole city to burn just because he is in love.

Cersei bends down and grasps his chin in her fingers, and when she brushes her lips over his temple Jon gets a strong whiff of wine on her breath.

“You’re pretty like Rhaegar, though, aren’t you?”

For a moment, fear grips his heart as he realises Cersei has learnt the truth of his parentage. It releases a moment later when he remembers that he doesn’t have to worry about the secret spreading now Daenerys is gone.

Cersei pulls away from him, her green eyes piercing his soul, and as she turns her back to him and walks back to her Throne, she calls over her shoulder, “You’re in love with her, then?”

“More than you know.”

The frown that mars Cersei’s face after his confession is unexpected, but he stays focussed on it. He doesn’t dare turn to Sansa and see her reaction to the truth.

“I know a thing or two about Targaryen men in love with Stark women,” Cersei says, then lets a contemplative silence fall over the hall.

Jon doesn’t move from where he’s knelt, even though his entire body aches and begs to be released into sleep. You don’t need her! He wants to scream. Not now you have me. I’m the Targaryen, a threat to your reign.

“I’d planned to take you, and kill your dearest Sansa of course,” Cersei says, after they’ve sat in silence for so long Jon becomes unsure whether his knees will ever unbend, “but I think that if I did, you might just throw yourself from a window, and I have much more important uses for you than that.”

Jon dares to cast his eyes over to Sansa at that. She’s staring back at him, an unreadable if fairly passive expression on her face. She’s still wearing the dress he saw her in last: the black one, with the leather armour laid over the torso, a look so fierce that the first time he saw her in it hr almost fell to his knees to grasp the hem of it and beg for her forgiveness (or to fuck him, maybe, he still isn’t sure which request would have spilt from his lips).

Aside from the bruise, and the way her hair has been hacked at, she looks relatively unharmed. It’s likely untrue, but Jon will gain nothing by trying to pull apart the aloof expression she’s adopted. He would know; he’s tried many times before.

“I’ll let her go,” Cersei agrees finally. “Back North, where she belongs. As part of my Kingdom, but I suspect you already knew that. In return, you’re to stay here, bastard.”

Both of these demands Jon had expected. It makes it no easier to witness Sansa’s frown, and to feel his heart break over the thought that the last time he’ll ever see her she is displeased with him.

But they are things he can live with if it means her freedom and her life.

The gag is pulled from Sansa’s mouth, and then she’s thrust onto her feet. The harsh shove of the guard makes her stumble, and it’s enough to make Jon attempt to rise to his feet, but then hands are clamped down on his shoulders and he can’t move.

“Your Grace,” Sansa says, coy and clipped as she curtsey’s. “Thank you for your kindness. If you would permit me just one more thing, I would like to say goodbye to Jon.”

Cersei quirks an amused brow, then waves her hand in permittance and takes the final gulp from her goblet.

Sansa’s steps are sure and true as she comes towards him, and she wastes no time in kneeling down for him. In a move that mimics Cersei, she grasps his chin; she is much more tender than Cersei was, much more loving. Her fingers caress his jaw, and then she leans in and kisses him.

Jon feels like his brain and heart stop, and while the kiss lasts only a second at most, he still chases after her lips, desperately wanting more.

Cersei’s amused laugh cuts through the air, but Jon’s eyes are still closed as he wishes that the moment never had to end; that he could live forever in that second in which his lips were pressed against Sansa’s, where they belonged.

“Oh, if only Ned Stark could see you now!” Cersei says with delight, clapping her hands together once. “How I would relish watching his face turn down in that infuriating frown of his.”

Sansa nuzzles her nose against his, a wolf-like gesture of care, but her fingers dip into his jaw just a little bit tighter, giving way to the possessiveness underneath.

“Don’t worry,” she whispers, “I won’t let her marry you.”

Jon hadn’t been worried about that, but as soon as Sansa says it he realises that this must be what Cersei meant when she said more important uses for you.

Sansa stays hovered over him, and he wishes she would kiss him again, but she doesn’t. She just stays with her face pressed against his, and Jon thinks that if this is the last time he ever see’s her, then at least they had this. It is so comforting, in fact, that Jon is sure he falls asleep against her cheek, because one moment he is basking in the peace of her, and the next a terrible, wet cough permeates the air.

He opens his eyes and goes to pull away from Sansa, but she cups his face with her hands and hushes him, brushing the curls by his temple in a such a soothing way that he relaxes into her again.

Another cough, louder this time, and then a gasp. Jon has seen enough death in his life to know the sound of it intimately.

Footsteps echo, desperate and hurried, and then Cersei’s rasping voice hisses, “What have you done?”

Jon doesn’t let Sansa distract him this time. He pulls away from her to watch as Cersei falls to her knees, grasping desperately at her throat, her face an ugly shade of red and purple, with blood dripping from her mouth.

Sansa doesn’t move away from Jon as guards rush over to their queen, and Jon can’t tear his eyes away from Cersei.

“An ugly death,” Sansa admits to him, her voice a whisper in his ear. “But now she gets to be with her son. And she can die like him, too.”

“You did this?” Jon asks.

“In her wine goblet.”

Sansa doesn’t elaborate further, but he doesn’t need any more detail. He likely should feel disgusted that Sansa could bestow what is obviously a slow and painful death upon another person, but - . . . his first life changed him, and his death changed him even more. He feels nothing for Cersei, despite the way she’s died, like he felt nothing for Ramsey, or Daenerys.

They are just deaths, necessary deaths, because Jon and Sansa have been put in a position in which they’re forced to choose: us or them.

It is not his fault that they have come out victorious on all counts.

“Go on, then,” Sansa encourages him, kissing the arc of his cheekbone, “get your sword. Kill the guards.”

Jon rises to his feet immediately, and gets his sword from where it lays, abandoned by a guard that had rushed over to his dying queen. Jon makes his way through the handful of them easily and quickly, and soon enough they are left alone in the Throne Room that stinks of death and blood.

Jon turns back to Sansa, blood splattered across his clothes. She smiles at him, a small thing, but his heart swells nonetheless.

Sansa moves over to where Cersei lies, empty eyes staring at the sky. She bends down to Cersei’s prone body and picks the golden circlet from the dead woman’s head.

When she places it atop her own head, the gold of it swimming in the beauty of her now-short hair, Jon’s breath is blown from his lungs.

The bruise that is flowered on her cheek doesn’t dim her beauty in the slightest, and the blue of her eyes sparkle as her gaze falls back on him.

Sansa doesn’t remove the Queen’s crown as she makes her way over to him, and the diamond encrusted points of it dig into the skin of his cheek when she pulls him close.

“Oh, Jon,” Sansa sighs, and he can’t quite make out her tone, can’t figure out the intricacies of the way his name sounds on her tongue, the way each letter dances as if she’s tasting them in her mouth. She backs him up, so that his knee’s hit the Iron Throne and he falls into it. “Thank you for coming. My silly, brave Northman.”

Sansa sinks down on top of him, her fingers spearing through the curls at the nape of his neck, and she brushes her lips over his. Even such a gentle, brief kiss is better than he could have imagined, and the noise that escapes his throat sounds like the whimper of a dog.

It pleases Sansa, however, as she smiles against him and then captures his mouth in a much harder kiss. She fills his hands and his mouth and his mind with her body, and then he fills her, too, right there on the Iron Throne, the dead bodies of their enemies still littering the floor.

She bites his ear when she peaks, and he pants between her breasts when he spills, and afterwards, she straightens herself from his lap and lets her dress fall back down around her ankles like she didn’t just fuck him atop the Iron Throne, while he stays sitting there, a confused yet satiated mess.

With Cersei’s crown still perched delicately on her head, Jon knows that Sansa, despite having been kidnapped, has outmanoeuvred them all; including him.

But Jon doesn’t mind. This is a battle he is happy to lose.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fic #jon x sansa fic #actuallyjonsa #don't blame me love made me crazy #actually jonsa

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samaraclegane · 5 years

Text

two similar prompts (again):

‘prompt: Gendrya. Aftermath of Grainsex. Arya’s pregnancy and birth of 1st child. It’s a girl (she has a feeling throughout and is very connected to the baby in general). The birth is emotional. She cries, grips the baby to her chest, and nurses her, before baby is cleaned. The girl is the heir to Storm’s End or WF (idk), she will rule over any siblings. The preg. makes Arya choose life with Gendry over the list. Jon’s reaction to the preg. and relationship, after he finds out Dany is preg.’

‘Gendrya pregnancy and birth. 1st born. Is a girl, and the heir to either the Iron Throne, Storm’s End, or WF... your choice on that one.’

author’s note: not sure if these were sent by the same person? there’s a lot of overlaps either way so I thought they’d fit perfectly together in one post. hope I do these justice, anon(s)!

-when she finds out, she could scream. actually, she could just break down into tears, though she doesn’t know exactly why that would be. it’s so unlike herself, of course, but it would also not be the first time. she’s not been herself for some time, she lets herself admit.

-it’s after the war. she knows the instinctively pregnancy has been brewing for some time, though she doubts that she’d have noticed any earlier, what with the stresses of war and the qualms, worrying for not only her safety but that of others, too. for the first time in so long, she’s been caring for people other than herself, and from her newest news she can see that’s going to continue for some time.

-the impact of the war was great. in the aftermath, everybody seems a little more subdued. there’s been some sudden changes, what with Daenerys on the throne now, ruling with Jon beside her. Jon has given Winterfell to Sansa, who has everything under control under her equally liberal and careful rule. she really has learned how the game is played.

-Gendry has now been officially been legitimised, after some discussion. now lord of Storm’s End, he’s meant to be making plans to go ‘home’, though he seems to be putting those off until the very last moment. she can’t say she’s not grateful for this.

-there’s news like hers, too, with Daenerys and Jon. the Targaryen queen is expecting, exciting news to the kingdoms, but especially to her. she, who has to often repeated dismally how she can no longer bear children, has been taking special care, not wanting to put the safety of her child in jeopardy.

-Arya, though, is still in the bizarre stage. she isn’t filled to the brim with dread, though she knows it’s far from what she’s wanted. she’s always wanted to be free to roam, catering for herself (and, as a new addition to her plan, Gendry), travelling and ticking the names off of her list (those that remain, at least. the Night King did some of her work for her).

-now, though, she knows that’s not possible. now, with her unexpected pregnancy, she’s thrust into a new life - a life she’s never planned, never really wanted if she’s totally honest, and a life she doesn’t know how to handle.

-at first, she wept. her eyes moistening, decreasing her until she’s a hormonal little puddle on the floor. then, she stiffens, straightens her stance, and decides to herself that the news has to come out, and there’s no time quite like the present.

-she has to decide who to tell first, and it’s only natural that she comes to the conclusion of Gendry. he’s relatively easy to locate, in the forge where it all began, and she’s surprised by how easily the words fall from her mouth when he looks at her inquisitively.

-”I’m pregnant,” she states plainly, and doesn’t miss how his brow furrows as he watches her closer now. “it’s yours.”

-she’s even more shocked by how he responds - as though it’s not real, like she’s telling him a tall tale. he rolls his eyes, and returns to his forge, murmuring under his breath.

-”I should hope so,” he says.

-he thinks she’s joking. she realises quickly enough, and snaps back, perhaps a little more aggressive than she had intended, “I’m serious.”

-he casts his eyes back at her, and puts down his tools when he sees there’s no insincerity on her face. he quirks an eyebrow in questioning, and when she lets out a breath and nods, sniffing, holding back the influx of tears that have reutned for a second round, it takes him less than four seconds to cross the space between them and envelop her in his arms.

-they stand together, whimpering in collective joy as they hold one another. having previously been undecided, her ambiguous emotion now dissolves to pure, unadulterated happiness, because how could she ever not want this? Gendry - Gendry Baratheon now - and their child.

-there’s so much more for them to talk about, but they don’t. at least, not yet they don’t, because the news is enough, and to find out they’re going to go on another adventure together is magnificently mind-bending. he holds her for a moment longer (or maybe it’s a month, she couldn’t be the judge of that) before she has to pry herself out of his grasp, telling him there’s somebody else she has to see.

-with a quick peck to his lips, she’s leaving, not ignoring how she can feel his eyes on her all the way to the door, and then she’s off on another mission.

-this one is a little harder to locate, but she does. Jon, who’s preparing to leave himself, to tend to some things in King’s Landing. Arya supposes he’ll be gone until Daenerys gives birth, and she hopes to see him and the child soon after, though she’s not too convinced it’s safe for an infant to travel by dragon.

-Jon, at current moment, is sat where they used to dine. he’s pouring over some notes, surrounded by some other men who seem to be helping him sift over whatever information has been scribed on the paper. he looks confused, as though nothing written makes sense.

-when he sees her (well, probably more like hears her, with the way the door squeals as she pushes it open), he turns to the men and dismisses them. he stands, welcoming her with his mannerisms, and urges her to come and sit beside him. she politely refuses.

-”Arya,” he addresses her, sounding formal, as though they didn’t grow up in this place together all those years ago. “what brings you to me?”

-she breathes, takes a look around the room, and thinks. it’s strange to her that her mother and father lived in these halls. they too had moved here, as her and Jon and Sansa did now. their bodies had aged here, her mother had given birth here. and now, she realised, so would she.

-”I have news.”

-”do you?” Jon perked up, sitting more upright in his seat, “do go on.”

-she tried to still the softening of her face as she willed herself to just say it already. she sucked in a sharp breath, and then confessed. “I’m pregnant.”

-his face shifted. he did not look judgmental, but overwhelmingly dazed. he first raised his eyebrows, then furrowed them, clearly trying to form a question to ask her that would not come across as blatantly rude or foolish.

-”Gendry?” he settled to say simply, “is he the father?”

-she nodded, only somewhat surprised by his intuition. after all, there had been no other man Arya had shown prolonged interest in since his return, apart from himself. what a controversy that would be, she thought humourously to herself.

-he too nodded in response. his eyes fell to the table as he dipped back into his mind to think quietly, and she waited. eventually, he returned to her, and said, “your child will be the heir to Storm’s End. and, in the event that Sansa bears no children of her own, they will become lord or lady of Winterfell, too.”

-Arya hadn’t even begun to consider that much. and, her body told her, she rather liked the thought of lord or lady, as Jon’s choice of words sang to her the sweet harmonies of equality she had spent her life aspiring for. she nodded once more, and then spoke.

-”will you have us marry?”

-he took a moment, then earnestly responded, “if you want to be married, then I’ll permit it gladly.”

-his stoic expression cracks, releasing a beam of sunshine into the room. she too begins smiling, even laughing due to how unreal the situation feels. he pushes back his chair and clambers hastily down the steps to join her. when he reaches her, he pulls her in for a tight hug, and lays a kiss sweetly atop her head.

-”I’m happy for you, Arya,” he says, and she believes him. “I have to say, though, I don’t know how I feel about us having babies at the same time.”

-she knows he’s joking. she’s known him long enough to know that his attempt at humour is really him saying I’m proud of you, or perhaps I wish you good fortune, or maybe even a congratulations; you’ve found a man I approve of. whichever of the three it is, if not a combination, she’s elated with.

-he pulls back from her, beaming as though he were a fifteen year old boy again. he smiles as though nothing has changed, as though they’re still in Winterfell with her mother and father, and perhaps Rickon will come bounding through the door at any moment and begin jumping all over them, like the direwolf he loves so very much.

-and, though Arya knows those times are gone, for a split second it feels as though everything really might be the same.

-they have to part eventually, though, and life goes on. she tells Sansa, who offers her congratulations, and news spreads far and wide: there is to be a Stark-Baratheon union after all.

-their wedding ceremony is not rushed, but it is private. she requests (and Gendry concurs) that only close relatives and friends should attend, while others can hear of the elopement afterwards. they’re in the woodland of Winterfell, beneath the godswood, listening for chattering birds and lost loved ones in the blow of the trees. she could not say for certain if she found the latter.

-she and Gendry settle into Storm’s End (as much as she’s willing to, at least, because there’s still some part of her that wishes to rely as little as possible on possessions stored in one area). in time, she even begins to call it ‘home’, but by the time she nears the end of her pregnancy, she and Gendry return to Winterfell, where she intends to have the child.

-her family is there, too. Sansa, of course, greets her and takes the two of them personally to their temporary quarters. she sees Jon, too, and learns that his child has been born - a son, who has been named Rhaego, for the son she learns Daenerys had lost.

-she instantly slips back into old routines, albeit a little slower and more cautious this time around. she would like to partake in many of the fighting tournaments, though she’s come to learn not to push her luck with anything nowadays, because, as the ladies in Storm’s End keep telling her, she’s ‘ready to go any day now’.

-she day she actually ‘goes’, she’s least expecting it. it’s ironic: she’s expecting to deliver every single day that passes, and the day she doesn’t feel anything is the day she does.

-she’s in instant agony. she had presumed that, since she’s suffered great pain before, she could handle the aches of labour, but she’s soon proven wrong. thanks to her petite frame and small stature, which she’s convinced does not help, she’s keeled over, and she has to be lifted onto the nearest bed by two nearby men.

-one stays with her as the other seeks out Gendry, who she can tell when he arrives has ran the entire way. he’s beside her in a flash, and her hand is instinctively squeezing his every time she fears the pain is coming back.

-there’s screaming. for so long, she’s screaming, and it takes longer than she cares to record for the delivering nurse to arrive. by the time she does, Arya is feeling like she might just pass out from the sheer pain of it all. she feels the woman press something to her lips and she makes her drink. she hears Gendry uttering sweet, soft words to her, running his free fingers through her sweat-matted hair, and she privately wonders how and why her mother had had five children.

-whatever the nurse gives her reduces her pain to almost nothing. she presumes it’s some sort of herbal tea, though she’s never heard of - nevermind had - any of that strength before. she barely even notices as the baby is removed from her, and only comes back to herself when the crying starts and the nurse with the kind eyes is handing a small, blue baby to her, blood still coating the skin like a shell.

-she doesn’t even have to check to know that it’s a girl. she’s known from the very start of the pregnancy, could feel it due to what the old wives called ‘mother’s intuition’, and she’s already crying. this time, though, she knows it’s with delight. there’s no feeling sweeter than this, holding the child in her arms - her little girl - and knowing that she’s Gendry’s, too.

-Gendry, she can feel, it watching over the pair of them. he reaches down a hand to brush the faint wisps of black hair the girl already has and brings his face down, kissing her on the head gently. the nurse returns, bundled up cloth covering her hand, and tries not to move the baby far from Arya as she cleans her up.

-the child, without the blood on her, is even more beautiful. angelic in the face, with something undeniably her about her, despite already having strong, tell-tale Baratheon features. she weeps, tears dropping onto her own chest and her daughter’s head, and the rocks the child against her.

-this child, undeniably a beautiful gift to her sent by the gods, is something she had never even considered. as a child, she had declined her mother’s insistence that she would change her mind about children one day. she had always interrupted, said that children were a lady’s thing, and because Sansa was the lady, only Sansa would have children. this, as she had come to learn, was delightfully wrong.

-she cast a look between her husband and her daughter, and could not stop the smile from breaking across her face, because this was what she had never known she wanted. perhaps she would have been happy killing and living on the move, never really having a home, but this was something she could never turn her back on.

-Gendry, the black haired beauty atop her chest, the feeling of completion that welled up inside her as she considered the previous two... this was home. this was new, she thought, and this was revolutionary.

#gendrya #send me stuff #send some asks #send me asks #send me questions #SEND ME REQUESTS #send me prompts #prompted works #gendrya prompts #gendrya headcanon #mine #writing #Gendry #Gendry Waters #gendry x arya #Gendry Baratheon #arya x gendry

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ashleyfanfic · 5 years

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Y'all done made me get my laptop out so I can type this and not on my phone. That’s how damn tired I am of it.

I am a Dany fan(Stan). But let me be clear in saying that I am also a Jon Snow fan(Stan). You people out here spewing your hate on one or the other are getting on my last fucking nerve because you’re all missing the fucking point of Jon and Dany’s entire arc!

Dany’s Arc since coming to the North She’s having to contend with a people who didn’t sign up to be her people. Their king, the man they named king, named her his queen. Now, not one of them have asked why he did this, but you can tell they’re looking at him and her and made assumptions that it’s just because they’re together. But like Jon had to do when he was at Dragonstone, maybe it would make a little too much sense for them to ask why he’s so devoted to her. So, her arc is first coming to a place she doesn’t necessarily want to be, fighting a war she hadn’t intended on fighting, beside the man she loves. That’s all hard going for her. I think ep 3 will add some more layers onto this. Jon’s Arc since coming to the North Trying to logically reason with illogical people about bending the knee. Even his own sisters have doubts about why he did what he did and don’t actually ask as much as accuse him of being disloyal to his family or forgetting who he was. Then Sam drops the truth on him, not in a way that would have softened the blow for his best friend, the man who had always protected him but drops it in such a way it’s a gut punch and meant to drive a wedge between Jon and Daenerys.

I know people take issue with Dany’s reaction to what Jon said to her, but wouldn’t you? I mean, you just got told that the man you love is a long lost relative and people will say he has a better claim simply because he’s a man? And then these same people turn around and chastise the fact that Jon will tell her he doesn’t want it and that makes him a bad person because he’s stepping away from it because of her? He loves her, you dope. He also doesn’t want to be a king, has never wanted to be a king, and if you don’t understand that, then you don’t fucking understand Jon Snow. He took positions of power because they named him or he was the best person. If he steps aside it’s because he believes in Daenerys.

I don’t give a shit about your “A man steps in front of a woman to take her place even though she’s been working for it her whole life”. Correction, she’s been working for it since she decided she wasn’t just going to be a pet for Drogo and actively started taking on the role of Khaleesi. Jon didn’t know the opportunity was even out there.

But even if he did, what are you implying? That Jon has done nothing? Jon joined the Night’s Watch and became a steward to the Lord Commander and saved his fucking life from a wight. That’s how he got Longclaw. Then he goes beyond the wall with his brothers and gets captured by Wildlings and kills one of his own men in order to ingratiate himself with those people. In doing so, he learns that they aren’t as horrible as he thought. They were people who had the misfortune of being born on the wrong side of the wall and were trying to survive. Some are bloodthirsty cannibals, but your more rational Wildlings, like Ygritte and Tormund, don’t like that group. He still gets back to the Wall and helps his brothers fortify Castle Black and fights against them. It’s because of Jon that they win that battle. He executes Janos Slynt for not following order (and good thing Janos didn’t have any family that would have made him sympathetic to the group). Then we have him go save the Wildlings, fight the Army of the Dead, and watch in horror as all those killed were resurrected as dead. He was killed for this. Those people he saved, the Wildlings, came to fight and protect Jon even in death. He fought to win back Winterfell even knowing that the odds were against them. And he went south to meet with a potential enemy/ally because he saw they needed help. Jon didn’t know he was a prince. No one thought to tell him that before he went to the Wall, but I wouldn’t say he’s done nothing to deserve the crown.

And then there’s Dany, and the ole girl had a shit time of it as well. Her own family member sold her to a warlord for his army. Said family member was abusive and her husband raped her repeatedly. Even to the point where sitting in the saddle was painful. Her husband died, her baby died, all because of decisions she made. Those events made her even less trusting in others than she was previously. But she hatched Dragons in the fire. She made it through the Red Waste, the exact opposite environment that Jon Snow was living in. Her people were slaughtered so the dragons could be taken. She survived that and managed, through her own wits and not informing any of her advisors as to her plan, to acquire the Unsullied army who chose to follow her after she freed them. She takes Yunkai and Meereen and even marries a man she despises and reopens the fighting pits because she’s looking to make the people happy. She didn’t sail to Westeros when she was able. She stayed to try to make the lives of the freed slaves better. She learned the pitfalls of ruling and how hard it was. You know what she did learn? You can’t make everybody happy. She took the Dothraki, not with her dragons, but with her own plans. Everyone proclaims she’s nothing without her dragons, yet she managed to kill all the khals and took the Khalasar with fire and a well-placed lock on the door. She finally settles the issue with the Masters (by showing her ultimate power). She sails to Westeros and because she abandons her plans in favor of Tyrion’s plan, clever men, she loses all of her allies. She’s spitting mad when she learns about Highgarden but turns to someone who isn’t in her counsel and asks what he would do. Because Dany has proven that she will listen. She defeated the Lannister army coming back from Highgarden.

But the same can be said for Jon which is why I don’t think EITHER of them will take it. Love is the death of duty. Jon and Dany love one another. Yes, fam, she loves him. He loves her. They have been beating us over the head with it over two years. They love one another. Yeah, they’re adding in drama, but they kind of have to. People would bitch, moan, and complain if there wasn’t some drama around this revelation. But let’s go back to how he tells hers: They’re alone. He’s been avoiding her and she’s finally had enough and seeks him out. She finds him in the crypts and doesn’t approach him any further until he smiles at her and nods. She wraps her arms around him, he holds her hands as he stares at Lyanna’s statue. She asks who they’re looking at and he only says “Lyanna Stark”. She then starts speaking about her brother Rhaegar and how he was good and decent, loved to sing and gave money to orphans, and he raped her. She couldn’t wrap her mind around that. Jon tells her that he didn’t. They were in love. It’s not meant to hurt her, but I believe he was hoping that by telling her that, it was meant to soften some of what she believed about her brother, a brother she clearly loves even though she never met him. The look on her face is heartbreak and disbelief. She knows this changes everything. Because it’s not what either of them thinks their claim is, it’s what other people will think. They’ll push her aside for the male heir. And speaking of a male heir, Jon is the last of the Targaryens. The only one who can carry on the line. Dany has a habit of thinking of the long term, and she sees what’s going to happen. He’ll have to marry someone else, he’ll have to for their house to survive. And then people will really support his claim for the Iron Throne.

But here’s how I think this plays out. I said above that I don’t think either of them will sit the throne, and I don’t. I think the world is going to change with this battle in ep3 and possibly ep5. I don’t really think there will be a throne to sit. Davos has already offered up the easiest solution: marry them. But Dany will be against this because she doesn’t believe she’ll be able to have children. She’ll make him go away because of this belief. I don’t believe Jon will ever do this willingly. He loves her. The throne means nothing to him, but belonging to a family does, and right now, Dany is his family. Sansa and Arya have already put themselves at odds against him because of how he feels for her. So he’s possibly going to fight Dany on this. I think we’ll get some trickery that will make them both realize how stupid they are for each other. Dany will have Jon’s baby, and I think this goes back to Emilia’s comment about how the end fucked her up. Think of it from her perspective. What has been Dany’s goal for the entire series, almost? To take the Iron Throne. She might have even expected Dany to die. But does anyone expect her to give up the throne to live out a peaceful life with the man she loves and her child(ren)? No. Dany wants to break the wheel that her ancestor Aegon built. What better way than to dissolve the monarchy? So, let’s say the last vision we see of Dany is that of a mother to an actual child, Jon at her side, with their dragons, living somewhere far away from Westeros. That would cause some people to be irate, but others to go, yeah, that’s what’s best for these two people who have done nothing but suffer.

#jonerys #jon x dany #jon x daenerys #jon snow x daenerys targaryen #got spoilers

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clamydomona · 5 years

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Impressions of Game of Thrones after watching the show (because my local library had the first two seasons on DVD and I thought what the hell, why not watch the whole thing now that it’s done):

Spoilers for the whole show!

- I thought it would be this epic masterpiece, since half the world seemed so crazy about it, and was surprised that 90% of it was a medieval soap opera with family feuds and intrigues, illegitimate children and (accidental) incest

- I loved the intro, both the music and the animation. But half the time I have no idea which of the characters are actually in which of the locations shown in the beginning.

- I guess some of the battle scenes were pretty impressive, but I honestly couldn’t care less about all of them. The only time I really enjoyed the fight scenes was with Arya, because she was so cunning and elegant, and to a lesser degree with Brienne and her brute force, but during the full blown battle scenes I always paid little attention (partly because some were really terribly lit and it was hard to see something on TV during the day).

- Since I knew the most mayor players in the last season due to twitter osmosis, I found it hard to connect to a lot of characters since I knew they would bite it at some point or other. Mostly Robb who I couldn’t connect to at all (though I was surprised that he looked pretty attractive when I rewatched the Red Wedding, before that I thought he looked pretty bland). I also didn’t notice Theon at all in the first season and it took me a while to understand who he was when he got a bigger part in the second.

- In the first season, the only Stark children who I thought could act convincingly were Arya and Bran. I’m very glad that Sansa and Jon improved throughout the seasons, they were great later on. I didn’t much care for Robb, since I knew he wouldn’t win anyway.

- I’m surprised how many characters were put on hold in some seasons and just didn’t do much. Like Jaime in season 2, where he was almost completely absent, or Sansa before she returned to Winterfell.

- I didn’t fully get the religion plot in season 6 and I didn’t really care for it, but Cersei’s acting was great.

- The person I hated most was Joffrey. I already knew about Ramsey going in, since I watched him raping Sansa and his death in a college class, and most of the other “evil” characters were at least interesting to watch, but he was such a whiny sadistic piss baby. At least Jaime could actually fight, even though I found him also very annoying in the beginning. I’m sad that Arya never defeated him in a duel and cut his head of or sth. Though his death was very satisfying and I watched it more than once on youtube when I found him annoying. I would love to see Jack Gleeson in something completely different because he was a pretty good actor.

- I felt similar about Daenerys’s brother, and I looked forward to his death, but he got humanized during his death and I was surprised I felt a little bad for him as well. But had he lived, Cersei would have crushed him.

- I also loved Littlefinger’s death scene and watched it more than once, but compared to his masterful manipulation in the beginning he got very sloppy in later seasons, to be bested this easily. But Sansa also got very good at looking through manipulation and deception and playing that game herself.

- I could have watched the Stark siblings fucking shit up in the North for ages.

- I didn’t expect that so much tension came from waiting until various family members reunite again. I wouldn’t have expected that it takes 8 seasons for Arya and Jon to see each other again.

- I was surprised how much I liked Bran in the early seasons, since I knew he would end up on the throne in the end and most of the internet was disappointed by that and most of the pictures I saw of him were pretty lackluster. I still feel bad for him considering that he was pushed out of a window in the first episode and would never see his parents alive again. Regardless, he got very creepy once he became the Three Eyed Raven or whatever and actually seemed to lose the ability to act. He would have been the last person I put on that throne.

- Why didn’t every kingdom do what Sansa did and declare independance? Seems like a better deal.

- The show was very good at this buddy comedy road trip plot that it had going on for various unexpected characters. I liked both Jaime and Brienne a lot more after their road trip and I was very surprised by how much I enjoyed Arya and the Hound. They were my favorite reunion in season 8. Also Tyrion and Jorah to a lesser extent.

- I love Emilia Clarke and I was impressed how much control she had over her eyebrows. (I mostly saw her on Graham Norton and she has the most expressive eyebrows I have ever seen). Sadly, I lost more and more interest in her story, mostly because she was so far removed from all the other action, I think. But I’m glad I finally know what a Khaleesi is because I was so confused whether she was called Khaleesi or Daenerys or what.

- I’m further confused by how much time has passed in the show. Based on how much Cersei’s younger children were aged up from season 2 to season 4, you’d assume around five years or so, but based on Gilly’s child it looks like the show as a whole only took 4 years. Also seems weird to me that Arya, Bran and Rikkon spent years wandering around the country. Really?

- One of the most unrealistic things to me is that I am expected to believe that Tyrion is four years younger than Cersei and Jaime. He looks so much older than them.

- I love Sam. I love that he found the place he best fit in in the end, where he was appreciated for his talents and taken seriously. And I loved his story with Gilly.

- Considering that half the seven Kingdoms knew in the end that Cersei’s children were Jaime’s and most people couldn’t care less, was it really necessary to push Bran out of a window? (Though I guess that got out after Robert’s death, so it might have gone differently.) Additionally, who the fuck ordered the attack on Bran to kill him? It sure as hell wasn’t Tyrion, so was it Littlefinger who told Cat about the knife? But how did he know about that all the way in King’s Landing, since it takes 4 weeks to get there from Winterfell and they were all on the road. I guess someone could have sent a raven to him and he ordered someone he trusted to kill Bran with his knife, but in that case that someone with the knife had to have been there already. Logically, it should be either Cersei or Jaime (probably more Cersei, since she’s the mo0re ruthless of the two). So did Littlefinger just pretend it was his knife when Cat asked? Though I guess he could have ordered someone to steal the knife from Tyrion to frame him later on. Or Cersei did.

- Also, why the hell would anyone be stupid enough to assume that Tyrion was responsible for Bran’s attack or Joffrey’s death?

- Why did Shae completely turn on Tyrion and on top of that also sleep with Tywin? Was she this hurt by Tyrion sending her away?

- Pity that Tyrion and Sansa didn’t work out, he was the only one who truly respected her and her intelligence.

- Because I was shown Sansa’s rape on her wedding night and Ramsey’s death in class once, I spent a lot of time confused after I saw some gifs of Sansa and Tyrion’s wedding. I didn’t really recollect what Ramsey looked like, so I thought for a while that it was Tyrion who raped Sansa while Varys looked on, since someone in class explained that the guy who was forced to watch was castrated and Varys was the only castrated guy in the beginning of the show. And then I was confused why everyone liked Tyrion so much, since I thought the character raping Sansa wasn’t very well received.

- They cast Cersei’s and Jaime’s children very well. Especially after they cut off Cersei’s hair, I wasn’t sure whether some of the pictures I saw in passing in the last years were of Joffrey or Cersei. Furthermore I’m very glad that Jaime got a more rugged appearance in later seasons. He reminded me so much of a Ken doll I had as a child (who always lost one of his legs, poor guy) that I couldn’t take him seriously and actually thought he was just as much of a phony as his son as a knight. But, how the hell was Ned Stark only the second guy to notice that all children are blond while Robert’s relatives are all dark haired? And how is that considered proof? Jon is a Targaryen and he’s not blond, so Ned of all people shouldn’t judge by the hair color.

- Also, why didn’t Ned tell Cat that Jon was his nephew? Everyone else could still assume that Jon was Ned’s, but Cat could have known the truth. It’s not like she would have told Robert.

- While I thought it took ages for some storylines to move forward in the early seasons, I think it was preferable to the fast pace in the last two seasons. They felt more rushed, but also very surface level due to the huge cast.

- Also, why did everyone say Walder Frey’s daughters were so ugly and terrible? They looked like perfectly normal and nice girls. (I loved that moment when Walder introduced all of them to Robb and one corrects him on her name and he says “fine”. I laughed out loud at that.)

- Lady Olena was like every snarky twitter and tumblr comment come to life. She was awesome and her death was a really great moment.

- I was under the impression that Jon and Daenerys were some star-crossed lovers or something since all of Twitter seemed shocked that he killed her in the last episode, but they seemed like such an afterthought to me, especially since they only met for the very first time in season 7. (But kudos to that meeting, the way Ser Davos introduced him was awesome.)

- Also, for someone who told Jon he shouldn’t hold her responsible for the sins of her father, she sure likes to bring up the crimes of relatives to others. (Like Gendry in season 8, who didn’t even know who his father was for most of his life.) Seriously, that was so annoying to me.

- An finally, I cannot stress enough how much I hate that fucking phrase “Winter is coming”. By episode three I was fed up with it and it didn’t get better, not even when winter finally arrived. Honorary second place is “bend the knee”. I could have strangled everyone in season 7 and 8 who said that.

#Game of Thrones #GoT #Spoilers #Game of Thrones spoilers

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sanjuno · 5 years

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BloodRaven Actually Does Something

What if the resurgence of magic was more drastic?

(By which I mean I re-read The Great Northern Alliance on a03 and it’s hilarious and brilliant and I couldn’t stop imagining stuff about it)

Like, imagine that the children born after a certain point (perhaps BloodRaven saw all his remaining relatives go nuts/start getting kicked out and decided to tip the scales a bit) start manifesting magic traits and potential. The highborn have been selectively breeding themselves and accidentally keeping the magic blood strong, but there’s also a lot of small folk, either descended from bastards/demoted families or just genetic luck, who get “tricks”. Like a pair of twins who can share their senses with each other. Or a toddler who’s dolls move. Or a little boy is attacked by his drunken father and his bottle shatters against his glass-glimmer skin.

But the focus the instigator has is on the people he actually wants to have strong abilities-everyone else is just from a ripple effect- aka his relatives (Targaryens) and the Houses who will actually prepare for winter (Major Northern Houses). Starks actually fall into both categories, and so basically all the children from Roberts Rebellion onwards in Winterfell-shire can do something weird. (And in the free cities there are rumours of unnatural children being born, and a Dornish girl hisses to snakes in the shadow of the Tower of Joy).

Stark children “talents”. I’m thinking they can all warg, at least a little. It’s the baseline manifestation of magic. Not a lot, but as the talent ripples out it becomes a boon to sending messages.

Robb picked up his “template” from the far ancient intermarriage the First Men had with the Children of the Forest. Roots climb up his boots if he stands still too long, plants flourish under his gaze. The weirwood trees whisper to him, and let him give them new faces and children. It’s not particularly useful in a fight, but an army under Robb Stark will never go hungry. And if he has a slight green tinge to his skin, and eats a little less than he should, who will know?

Jon Snow may look like his mother, but his many times grand uncle made sure that it was his father’s blood that shaped the awakening magic. The Valerians had children with their siblings do you really think they wouldn’t try and weave the dragons in there somehow as well? Jon doesn’t burn, has never been hurt by heat, and when his rage builds so does the fire in his lungs. Scales sleep under his skin, ready to protect him. No blade seems to do more than well up a tiny amount of blood when Jon Snow wades into battle.

Theon Greyjoy was an accident. An accident that turned out for the best, but still an accident. He came into his abilities late, it taking a year or so exposed to Brynden Rivers’ best efforts before there were results, and even then it wasn’t noticed till Theon dived into a river to save a Bran that was too young to know how to swim. The first Greyjoy took a mermaid to wife, and her blood resurged in her descendent. Water is like air to Theon, and no matter the depth to which he dives, pressure will never be a problem. Less useful is understanding the creatures of the water. That doesn’t mean obey, and they cannot understand any human other than Theon. It does help his claim to heirship when he returns to the Iron Islands with a pod of kracken.

Sansa Stark is a … difficult case. The White Walkers are tied to the Starks, in ways that only they know. But Sansa can walk barefoot through the snow, and haarfrost forms on her fingertips when a presumptive Southron sees a pretty Northern maid travelling to meet her mother’s kin. When the Northern armies cannot win, they fall back into the deep forest, and Sansa Stark steps onto the field, ice woven like lace through her blood red hair, and her Tully eyes burn bright. The Heiress to the Night King smiles like her wolf as every dead man on the field stands up.

Arya Stark actually pulls from her mother’s line. The Tully’s are Andals, and have been devout every since their first crossed the sea with a seven pointed star on their sails. Now a way has been opened for the seven-who-are-one and this child has the potential for any of their faces. Arya Stark can pull on one of the faces of her patron(s), and gains almost impossible skill in that concept. If one did not know how old she was, it could be attributed to a lifetime of study and practice. Arya Stark dislikes stepping into her mother’s sept. The light and statues that turn to face her draw too much attention. The travelling Septon bows to her on the road, and he doesn’t know why he listens to her arguments.

Bran Stark has two Uncle Bryndens. One of them isn’t actually related to him, and he’s never met the other, but they are still his Uncles. Bran has been drifting from mind to mind since he was four, and has been the apprentice to the Three eyed Raven for almost as long. Every creature could have him hiding behind its eyes, listening. Everything ever spoken near a weirwood tree is ready for his perusal. When the North goes goes to war, Bran makes sure his Brothers know everything. And their enemies never think about the rat crouched under their chair. Listening.

Rickon Stark is still young, but his talent for learning languages is already catching attention. Things he writes in the surviving words of the Old Tongue seem strange somehow. Things become much clearer when he recreates a miniature of the Wall from snow, paper, and bloodied ink. His first project is a war table for his elder brother, with the everfrozen ice taking pride of place.

(I have more for other Northern Houses, “wild” talents for the small folk, and what’s happening with and around Viserys and Daenaerys. Also does anyone know where all the Sand Snakes were prior to Oberon picking them up and training them to kill?)

The first idea with much crazier powers could be a ton of fun, but at a glance I worry that it’s too skewed in the North’s favor. I get that it’s Brynden influencing the people he thinks will play the greatest role in the War for the Dawn, but it feels off to have so much of the powers concentrated among characters who already get so much in the fanfiction community. I really dig the Seven being at play with Arya, and I’d probably just take that further to other gods and faiths. Have some of the Rhoynish stuff in Dorne, maybe have Shireen with Rh'llor powers. If the Lannisters have any sort of magic blood, then naturally it would be strong as hell in Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen, since they’re inbred beyond the norm.

Maybe have him focus on the Ruling families, the Strong families (plus his)? or have it as a ripple effect down from whatever cave he’s huddling in, spreading South? Admittedly I do like giving the North a little help, and in universe Brynden would Want the vanguard against the Others to be strong. And I’m focusing at the characters theatre common in stories because they are the ones I know well.

But you’re right that other post rebellion children should have “talents”. What if Shireen and all Roberts Bastards all have variations on weather magic, while Cercei’s children all take after the Lannister mind manipulation or stone singing?

Anyway. I’m thinking there are baseline abilities before the quirk that ancestry or environment gave them. These were set up last time magic spread across the world. Those of First Men blood can warg a little, to a single close animal at minimum. Those of Andal blood may use Septon blessed boundaries to slow or even stop those who are against them. Valerians are fireproof, or at least resistant. And the Royinar ( nowadays Dornish) heal faster, to a varying degree, when in water.

Magic in a person is another tool of survival, and though it may be shaped by ancestry, in manifestation and power, what the wielder needs to survive, to live, is what shapes it. A starving child becomes capable of eating rot without ever sickening, an abused one skin hardens to steel. A child who is fed to the point of vomiting learns to burn fat into bursts of incredible speed and strength and thought .

#not my bunny #but still super cool #I really like this bunny #the North remembers #BloodRaven actually does something #submission

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billygetup · 5 years

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the shore

Requested: no

Pairings: Jon Snow x oc

Summary: Amarya arrives at Dragonstone alongside Daenerys and her followers. She is an advisor to her grace and also are the ruler of a few islands off the coast of Essos. She is sent to greet Jon and the northmen with Tyrion and Missandei.

Part 1/?

Warnings: absolutely none!

Word count: 2165

Pronouns etc are female for this one, I can either do ocs or x readers (male and female)

Please don't plagiarise my work!

Amarya always knew that she would stand beside Daenerys Targaryen. The Silver Queen with the fiery temperament. She never expected it to lead her to where she stood now.

Ever since she was eight years old, power had been thrust upon her shoulders, like a heavy cloak weighing her down. Still, Amarya had always loved her people. Would die for them. It was that sense of liability and loyalty that the people of the Perzys Isles always loved in the girl.

Stood on the shore of Dragonstone, there was a queen. Her light, low cut dress brushed against her thighs as her cerulean eyes locked onto the boat coming closer. Amarya could see men squirming on the boat like ants. It wasn't apparent which one was the King in the North.

The invasion was not foreseen. No one knew that they were coming. But when they did, the heavens cried. Countless men, women and children were lost to the storm of chaos the pirates wielded. A young princess was torn that night. But, a queen was born.

When the boat was finally pulled from the frothing sea, it was clear who was king. Jon Snow had rather dark features, and yet he still reminded Amarya of warmth. While the summer queen loitered in the back, Lord Tyrion went to greet the new visitor.

As a small girl cowered in the corner of a dimly lit room, beaten and bruised, chained and defiled, a shadow turned the corner. Flinching, the girl curled in on herself, waiting for another hit.

"The bastard of Winterfell."

"Hey, hey, hey. It's okay, little princess. I'll protect you. They can't hurt you anymore."

"The dwarf of Casterly Rock."

"Where's my daddy?"

There was a small silence between the two parties, which wasn't awkward, but brimmed with humour. After a moment, the two men stepped forward and shook hands like old friends.

"I'm so sorry, little princess, but he's gone for a bit now. Don't cry, I'll help you."

"I believe we last saw each other on top of the Wall." Tyrion remarked.

"Are you a pirate?"

"You were pissing off the edge if I remember right," the man joked, "You picked up some scars along the road."

"I am, sweetheart, but don't worry. I'm not like them. I won't hurt you."

Amarya thought that the first sentence sounded just like something her friend would do.

The man slowly reached a hand toward the little body in the corner of the room. She looked weary, but was so hopeless that she had nothing to lose.

Tyrion nodded. "It's been a long road. We're both still here." The two seemed spooked for a moment, before the smaller of them turned to the man beside Jon Snow. He was relatively grey, and his persona reeked of familiarity.

Keeping her eyes locked on his outstretched palm, she slowly reached forward and accepted his help. He was able to see her bruises, purple shapes on her tanned skin. The man felt a tear leave his eye.

"I'm Tyrion Lannister."

"My name's Amarya of the Perzys Isles, what's yours?"

"Davos Seaworth."

"My name is Davos, little one."

Amarya's eyes widened, and a shaky breath escaped her throat.

"Davos? That's a funny name."

"Davos? That's a funny name." Amarya managed to let the words leave her mouth quickly. The man looked over to her. Realisation dawned on him.

The man chuckled lightly. "I know it is, little Amarya. Believe me."

"I know it is, little Amarya. Believe me." His voice was broken, and emerged in little cracks.

The two met in the middle for a bone crushing hug. Davos lifted her off of her feet slightly, and cried for the girl he knew. "I thought you were dead, little queen."

"You can't get rid of me that easily. I took back my family's throne." When they separated, Amarya held her head high. They smiled each other, forgetting everyone who watched in the background.

"I still see you as the daughter I never got to have."

"Well, I've got you. You'll always be a father to me."

A throat was cleared. The two slowly returned to their parties. Davos looked at the young girl. "This is far from over."

Amarya giggled at his remark.

Tyrion decided to speak to the man. "Ah, the Onion Knight. We fought on opposite sides at the Battle of Blackwater Bay."

"Unluckily for me."

But Amarya just couldn't pay attention. Not while those dark eyes rested on her. She tried her hardest not to look to Jon Snow, despite his gaze. When she eventually gave in, he looked as though he was trying to understand one of the world's greatest mysteries. As though he was trying to reach her soul.

Tyrion noticed his look. "This is her grace, Queen Amarya of the Perzys Isles, Protector of the Narrow Sea, Defender of the Innocent, the Phoenix. She is here on behalf of the people who go unrecognised. Those who lay between the two great continents of Westeros and Essos."

Jon gave her a small, fleeting smile. "Pleasure."

She nodded her head in respect. "Missandei is Queen Daenerys' most trusted advisor." She gestured to her left.

Missandei sent her a beautifully kind smile, and stepped forward. "Welcome to Dragonstone. Our queen knows this is a long journey. She appreciates the effort you have made on her behalf. If you wouldn't mind handing over your weapons."

The Northern King was hesitant. He turned to Davos, and then his men. "Of course."

The Dothraki that accompanied the few took heavy strides toward the visitors. Amarya watched as Jon untied his sword and reluctantly gave us to one of the men. The Dothraki also picked up their boat, and began to carry it away.

"Please, this way."

Davos walked over to Amarya, and checked her over. "You've grown. You're not little anymore. I don't like it."

Amarya smirked. "You're grey. You're not young anymore. Come to think of it, you weren't then."

"Oi, less of the snark from you, little queen. Remember who raised you."

"Oh, of course, my lord."

He gave her a kiss on the side of her temple, and went to speak with Missandei. Amarya smiled at the memories she shared with Davos, tucking a piece of golden hair behind her ear.

"You're her, then?"

She looked up to be met with the eyes of Jon Snow. "I'm who, exactly?"

"The one he never shuts up about." He nodded at Davos, who was having a lively discussion about butterflies with Missandei. Amarya watched the two happily.

"I suppose I am."

"You know, you're not what I expected you to be."

Amarya looked at the man, eyes narrowed. "How so?"

"Well, when I heard about another queen, I thought you'd be as stuck up as the rest of them."

"Well, how do you know I'm not?"

"Simple. You have kind eyes."

The group were still scaling the steps toward the castle. Not long since, the dragons had terrified the northmen, which Amarya thought was highly amusing.

The rest of the group were engaging in some conversation, while Amarya walked alone in the back, relishing in the sea spray. Suddenly, the jagged clouds parted, and a flurry of amber and crimson dove from the skies, and toward the front of the company.

The solitary shape darted between the rays of sunlight with a graceful ease, and twists so quick that you'd thought it had two heads.

Amarya gasped lightly. "Milaros!" She pushed to the front. "What are you doing?" She lightly grazed her fingers over his amber feathers, and he purred in delight. The, seemingly, bird was covered in a thick plumage of iridescent feathers, and, from what he could see, eyes a lustrous shade of halcyon.

Davos stepped forward. "Ah, so he grew then."

Amarya turned around to be met by many blank faces, as they were unaware of what creature Milaros was. "Oh, this is Milaros, my phoenix."

Someone in the back shouted to the queen. "What's a phoenix?"

The blonde smiled a little, turning back to Milaros. "A phoenix is an immortal bird which is immune to death. His tears are able to bring a person back from the brink of death. He can disappear and reappear in a burst of flames, and is able to carry the weight of seven men."

"How'd you get him?"

"He was gifted to me as an egg, by Davos." She smiled at the man. "I must go, I have urgent business to attend to." With that, she quickly strode off to feed her phoenix.

As a queen, it was clear where her loyalties lie. The people were everything to her. So it was only natural that she would be watching them on the cliffside in her spare time. Amarya could feel the wind whipping at her gold dress, the loose fabric shifting slightly.

She was used to the sea air, and being on Dragonstone was not that much different from winter in the Perzys Isles. Come to think of it, Amarya missed home.

She missed riding on her black palfrey, Summer, across the greenery of her castle grounds, and she missed her friends. Yes, a queen can have friends. It might have been difficult to spend as much time as she'd be willing to with them, but she loved them all the same.

Then, a voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "I didn't even know they existed."

Amarya turned to look at Jon Snow approaching the edge of the cliff. "What, people?"

The man smiled, but it could've been missed if you didn't pay attention. "No, a phoenix. Only ever heard of them from stories."

"Well, where I come from, Westerosi stories are our reality." She looked back at the sea of families below.

Jon Snow could see how much this woman cared for those who had no say, which was different to some power-hungry monarchs. It wasn't very common to find someone who put the people above every single thing in their life. He admired it. He admired a great deal about her, actually. "Have you spoken with Davos?"

"Not yet, actually, but I plan to. I've missed him."

"How did you two meet?"

Amarya's brow furrowed slightly, trying not to relive the horrible memories from her days as a young child. But then, she smiled a little. "He saved me from monsters."

"What monsters?"

The queen looked at him.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"No, no, it's quite alright. They were pirates who tried to take over the Isles. They killed my father, many of my people, and committed monstrosities against me." She didn't want to go into the gory details.

He got the message, though. "How old were you?"

"I was a girl of eight when they came."

He looked up to the sky quickly, and then back to the woman who stood before him. "I'm sorry to hear that. Must've been hard."

"It's okay, I've grown since then. Besides, I'd go through it all again if it meant the safety that my peopoe have now."

Jon thought that her sense of duty was admirable. "That's good of you."

"Yes, I suppose it is. And it was good of you to come here for the safety of your people."

"It needed to be done." Amarya could tell that a lot of the King's time was consumed by brooding. She felt curiosity overwhelm her.

"What are they like?"

Jon looked at her, confused.

"The Army of the Dead, what are they like?"

His eyes widened. "You believe me?"

"Please, you're talking to a girl who has a phoenix as a pet." Amarya rolled her eyes.

Jon chuckled slightly in disbelief. "Well, they're cold, and they're like death."

"Like death? Cold? There's plenty of things that are like that. What I mean is, how do they fight? How do they move? What do they want?"

Jon was surprised at how much she wanted to know about the White Walkers. "You can't possibly mean to fight them."

Amarya looked him in the eyes. "No, of course not. That's insane. I can't fight them," She looked away, and mumbled under her breath, "yet."

"I'd advise against it, they're quite strong."

Her head whipped around. "What, and I'm not? I pride myself on my strength. I've been in five battles already. And they weren't small, either. I didn't get names the Defender of the Innocent just for courtesy. I got it because I earned it. And I don't give up. I intend to die for those who would die today, or tomorrow, or any day. Those who need protecting are the ones who protect us the most. Now, I must speak with her grace."

Amarya walked away from Jon Snow, maintaining her calm nature. He went to say something, but the words would not form. He was intoxicated by her. She was new, colourful, and bold. How she stood up for herself showed her determination, which he looked for the most in anyone he met. Sadly, everyone was lacking. Apart from her. Perhaps being stuck on Dragonstone wouldn't be so bad, after all.

--------

Hey! So this is my first ever post, and I wanted to say that I will take requests for any fics you would like me to write regarding Game of Thrones, Stranger Things, Once Upon a Time, Friends and etc. I will publish a full list at some point, though! Also, I am willing to write smut ;)

#game of thrones #fanfic #jon snow #x reader #asoiaf #davos seaworth #tyrion lannister #platonic #daenerys targaryen #Missandei

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janiedean · 5 years

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k guys not to be THAT person but

the pictures came out, I went around to see the reactions and like

listen

far from me to judge theories and whatnot and I’m unspoiled and I wanna stay that way thanks

but like..... tyrion and cersei allying is a popular theory and it’s also apparently because their clothes are similar? like, the blue in cersei’s is obviously the light reflecting on her shoulder and the center is not even the exact same shape, tyrion’s costume actually looks more similar to varys’s than cersei’s, and..... honestly, we’re saying that tyrion - who in the show has definitely way less reasons to despise anyone on the stark side rn - would... go... and... secretly ally himself with cersei ie a person who abused the shit out of him all his life, wanted him dead all of his life and the last time they talked told him that she wanted to kill him?

this when jaime ie the one of the two siblings he has with whom he has/had a good relationship (and let’s remember that in the show they cut jaime’s involvement with tysha for good or bad so unless it shows up randomly in S8 to cause unnecessary drama that’s not driving a wedge between them) is actually back on the stark side when he’s allied with the starks?

like, regardless of ships and politics, he’d go and betray the one relative he has that he genuinely has a good rship with and viceversa to ally with the one who has wanted him dead all this time? like ffs honestly cersei has signed her death sentence, the conflict in the good side is most likely gonna be ‘what happens when it turns out that jon is a targaryen’ so there’s dany who has a living threat to her claim with whom she’s slept and jon who has to decide where he stands and that’s gonna def. create tension in the good guys’s side before the zombies come.......... but given that jaime in the picture has the split copy of robb’s armor I think it’s rather obvious where he’s gonna pledge his alliances and like....... sorry guys but if tyrion betrays anyone it should logically be daenerys for the starks/his brother, not daenerys + the starks/his brother for his damned sister who also has just demonstrated she’s unreliable af if jaime has come back without an army, turning his cloak and presumably informing everyone that she’s lied to them all along.

I mean, I get that we’re all excited and making theories, but... really? *shrug* I mean, I know it’s d&d and they’d do everything for shock, but based on costumes I’d go for tyrion + varys alliance rather than cersei ://

#tyrion lannister #idk guys i don't wanna sound like an asshole but #this looks 100% out of this world to me make of that what you will #i mean i get not liking tyrion but him wanting to contact cersei in the first place #is ..... highly improbable #guys he HATES her #no way he'd pick her over jaime come on #he was there hoping he WOULDN'T die when fighting against dany in s7 #sdkljgjkldklsjg #game of thrones spoilers for ts #anti-cersei #anti-cersei lannister #janie speculates

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starringemiliaclarke · 5 years

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Emilia Clarke on Why Game of Thrones Is the Perfect Form of Escapism + HQ Scans

As Daenerys Targaryen on Game of Thrones, Emilia Clarke created a warrior queen for the ages. Her legend can be told on the walls of caves or on T-shirts at Comic-Con. But behind the Valkyrie wigs and very testy dragons, Clarke has an inspiring origin story of her own.

A valley sprawls before her, rich with every color of green in the kingdom, reaching out to a twinkling city, which borders the infinite sea. Her hair (tinted not with peroxide, but tiny flecks of actual gold) glows with a radiance that makes the setting sun so jealous it hides behind the surrounding mountains, and the evening sky blushes. She is Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea. Everything in sight belongs to her.

Just kidding! She is Emilia Clarke, sitting high above Beverly Hills in a glass mansion rented for a magazine cover shoot. So high up that passing aircraft rattle the bones of the house and those inside it. So high up that you can see Santa Catalina Island in the distance, peeking out from behind a curtain of fog. She laughs about something the makeup artist says, and the last of the evening light bounces off of her cheekbones and shoots into the camera lens.

We are in the sky to talk about Clarke’s reign as one of the most preeminent television actresses of our time, as Daenerys on Game of Thrones. But first, I have a few questions about her abandoned career as a jazz singer.

Clarke’s default emotion is joy — her resting heart rate seems to be just below that of someone seconds after winning a medium-expensive raffle prize — but it quickly congeals into theatrical horror when I reveal that I know that she is a casual but talented singer of jazz music.

When she was 10, Clarke was an alto in a chorus that she describes as “very churchy.” Then a substitute teacher introduced her class to jazz. “I just innately understood it,” she explains. “I was always sliding up and down the notes. Every time, the [chorus] teacher would be like, ‘Quit sliding, just sing that note and then that one and that’s it. Stop trying to fuck with it.’ Then this [jazz teacher] was like, ‘Fuck with it. That’s the point.’ ” Fast-forward a couple of decades, and Clarke was singing “The Way You Look Tonight” at the American Songbook Gala in New York, honoring Richard Plepler, erstwhile CEO of HBO. Nicole Kidman was there, too, and that is the story of Emilia Clarke, a very famous singer.

Just kidding, again! That is the story of Emilia Clarke, extremely famous actress, and it is not even the beginning. Game of Thrones, the HBO fantasy epic that has captured the global zeitgeist for most of the past decade, has entered its ultimate season. Since the show premiered in 2011, Daenerys’s searing platinum blonde has been branded into the brains of every living person with cable access, so much so that she has become as recognizable an action figure as Princess Leia. Every autumn, legions of Americans don Grecian-style dresses and carry stuffed dragons to Halloween parties in homage. Kristen Wiig even appeared on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon in a full Daenerys getup. This phenomenon exists in part because it’s a relatively easy costume to assemble, but more likely because Game of Thrones is the most popular TV show in the history of TV shows.

It’s also just one of three popular entertainment franchises Clarke has participated in. Last year: Solo: A Star Wars Story, as a paramour of Han Solo. Two years before that: the fifth Terminator movie, beside Arnold. She was also Holly Golightly in a short-lived Breakfast at Tiffany’s production on Broadway. None of those projects were particularly successful — but none of that matters, to a remarkable degree, because what matters is: The people love Daenerys.

They love a character whose series arc begins with her indentured servitude as a warlord’s concubine and ends, most recently, with her fighting for sovereignty over a league of nations and for a throne made of swords. They love how fictional languages drift from her mouth like dancing smoke, and how her searing-white mane retains a fearsome curl, even in or near battle. They love the whole dragons thing.

The people would love Emilia Clarke, too, if only they knew who she was. During the first few seasons of Game of Thrones, Clarke was able to fool the general public into believing she was very regular civilian Emilia Clarke, because Daenerys was blonde, and Clarke was not. Now, she says, recognition happens more frequently. Particularly Stateside.

For reasons I cannot fathom, Americans feel more entitled to command the attention of celebrities. “People are like, ‘UH-melia CLORK!’ ” she says, in perfect American. In London, people are prone to whisper about her as she passes by. “ ‘Was that Emilia Clarke?’ ”

“I move like a shark when I’m in public,” she says. “Head down. I think I’ve got quite bad posture because of it, because I’m determined to lead a normal life. So I just move too quickly for anyone to register if it’s me or not. And I don’t walk around with six security men and big sunglasses and a bizarre coat. I really try to meld in.” It gets worse when the show is being promoted, but otherwise, she says, it’s not so bad.

“I move like a shark when I’m in public. Head down…I’m determined to lead a normal life, so I just move too quickly for anyone to register if it’s me or not.”

Her best efforts aside, anonymity may be a pipe dream. The show is as decorated as a Christmas tree in a craft store. Game of Thrones has won a Peabody and 47 Emmys, the most of any television drama in history. The show marries critical praise with popular success, then it mercilessly slaughters those who have come to celebrate this union and receives even more acclaim (“The Rains of Castamere,” season 3, episode 9). The plotlines are famously convoluted. Luckily, we have an entire web’s worth of episode explainers, encyclopedias designed specifically for the Westeros universe, and a self-explanatory Funny or Die segment called Gay of Thrones, starring Jonathan van Ness.

When Mad Men first aired, television bloggers dutifully unpacked its symbolic elements, and millennials celebrated the show’s style with Mad Men–themed parties that were really just ’60s-and-one-red-wig-themed parties. Game of Thrones is basically an economy of its own. Since the show premiered, tourism to Croatia, whose coastal port Dubrovnik stands in for the fictional city of King’s Landing, has nearly doubled. Game of Thrones–themed weddings are so popular that it is almost impossible not to attend them — in 2016, Clarke accidentally walked into one that was occurring at the same hotel where she and the cast were staying during filming. (It was not a canonical wedding, and no guests were harmed.)

Game of Thrones has also earned one of the most important pop culture accolades of the century: The attention of Beyoncé Knowles. I believe it is her favorite TV show, and this is why.

Exhibit A: Jay-Z reportedly gave her a prop dragon’s egg from the set, at great personal expense. Exhibit B: At an Oscars after-party this year, Beyoncé approached Clarke (“voluntarily,” according to the actress) to introduce herself. “I watched her face go, ‘Oh, no, I shouldn’t be talking to this crazy [woman], who is essentially crying in front of me,’ ” remembers Clarke. “I think my inner monologue was, ‘Stop fucking it up,’ and I kept fucking it up.”

“I was like, ‘I just saw you in concert.’ And she was like, ‘I know.’ ” Clarke also mentions that Beyoncé complimented her work but declines to share specifics.

Why are people (more specifically, everybody) and goddesses (more specifically, Beyoncé) all obsessed with a show about some dragons and lots of dungeons?

“The show is sensationalist in a way,” Clarke explains, in an effort to describe a TV series that features twins having sex and a child’s defenestration in the very first episode. It doesn’t matter — Clarke’s conversational style is so intimate and emphatic that basic facts feel like sworn secrets. When she smiles, she does so with every single muscle in her face. “It’s the reason why people pick up gossip magazines. They want to know what happens next…. You’ve got a society that is far removed enough from ours but also circulates around power. How that corrupts people and how we want it, and how we don’t want it.”

In other words, Game of Thrones’ value proposition is creating a rich other world for people to experience a prestige, high-production version of pure, horny, violent, unbridled drama. It is, according to Clarke, pitched perfectly: “I think it caught Western society at exactly the right moment.”

“I don’t know about you,” she says, “but when I watch something, it’s escapism. I’m feeling crappy; I’m just sad, moody, depressed, upset, angry, whatever it is. I know that distraction is what makes me get better. Distraction is what really, really helps me.” She laughs and then quickly pivots to a caveat: “I’m sure that’s not what a therapist would advise.”

It is at this point that Emilia Clarke leans in very close, her breath knocking at my sideburn, and explains to me the bombastic and devastating ending to the most important TV show of the decade.

Wow — just kidding once more. But, uh, while we’re on the topic, how is this whole thing going to end?

It was not hard to root for the Breaker of Chains, until recently. Now we’re seeing the gentle unspooling of her character, and flickers of a dangerous prophecy that she will ascend the throne only to follow in her father’s footsteps and burn it all to the ground. For a while, Daenerys seemed like the Lawful Good ruler, but we have had the great pleasure of watching how power can pervert people. (Nate Jones, at Vulture, leads a thrilling discussion of this very topic.) (Also, if Daenerys were to rule the Seven Kingdoms, only to go nuts, we might at the very least have a spinoff to look forward to.)

Clarke will never say. Throughout 10 or so years in the public eye, her interviews have been peppered with the same handful of charming personal details from her career — the service jobs she worked prior to making it, dancing the funky chicken during her Game of Thrones audition — which feels a lot like walking a vast beach and finding the same series of 10 seashells.

Then, in March, some very different treasure washed ashore when The New Yorker ran the most illuminating profile of Emilia Clarke to date. It was written by Emilia Clarke.

If I am truly being honest every minute of every day I thought I was going to die.

In it, Clarke revealed that she had suffered two near-fatal brain aneurysms during the early seasons of Game of Thrones. The first hit her mid-plank during a training session, and not long after, doctors discovered a second that required them to open her skull for a risky operation. The recovery period was, to her, more painful than the aneurysms. “If I am truly being honest,” she wrote, “every minute of every day I thought I was going to die.” She also announced her charity venture, SameYou, which seeks to provide rehabilitation for young people recovering from brain injuries.

The second time we talk, it is the day before the Game of Thrones New York premiere, and Clarke is at a morning fitting, surrounded by a coronation’s worth of gowns. It’s early, and a passing cold has fried the edges of her voice. But her words still vibrate with so much joy, it’s like she doesn’t even notice. She’s just happy to be here, wherever she is.

Source

Emilia Clarke on Why Game of Thrones Is the Perfect Form of Escapism + HQ Scans was originally published on Enchanting Emilia Clarke | Est 2012

#articles #emilia clarke #gallery #magazines #news #photos #scans #game of thrones #game of thrones cast #GOT cast #daenerys targaryen #me before you #terminator

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auroraphilealis · 6 years

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any book recs?

Heck yes I do!

Simon VS. The Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli: Even if you saw the movie already, the book is like a different storyline. They’re super close but very different and I literally can’t decide which I prefer

It by Stephen King: I’m not actually the biggest horror fan of all time but after seeing the movie, I fell in love with this idea. I’m only about half way through the novel version, but there is something insane about the way Stephen King writes. He truly understands human’s on a level not many people do, or at least understands them enough to REALLY draw out the true horror of the world. I don’t know man, it’s a good fucking book.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley: Actually though, i re-read this after having read it 6 years ago, and holy shit this is actually amazing. I love this novel. Frankenstein is… a fascinating story.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak: Seriously fucking amazing. It’s about a little girl growing up in Nazi Germany only it’s told from Death’s point of view, and I know what you’re thinking - how the fuck? But holy shit it is a fucking crazy good story, and the character of Death had me hooked on the first page

The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski: One of my all time favorite books. It’s kind-of sort-of the story of Hamlet, but with a totally different modern revamp. The main character is mute, was born mute, and his closet relationship is with his dog. His mom marries his uncle after his father dies in a fire, and.. well. It’s just incredibly beautiful and amzing.

The Sword of Truth series by Terry Goodkind: Look. This is the longest book series I have ever read. I used to spend every second of every day reading these books. But if you’re a fantasy fan, and huge word counts don’t scare you, then good LORD is this the series for you. I think back on this series so fucking often, and I’ve read certain books in it like, six times each. Currently, my mom has my copies or I would be READING IT AGAIN since this series hass been on my mind alot again. Again, it’s super long. I think currently we’re on book like… 27. I googled it. holy shit it’s grown since I last picked it up. The best part about this series is 1. You can technically stop at any point because each book has a relatively good ending that will keep you satisfied (except book 1 and 2, you really have to finish 3 while youre at it). 2. They reflect the modern world so well sometimes you’re just godamn wow. Seriously. If you love fantasy, please give it a try. It’s worth it.

The Host by Stephanie Meyer: Look, I know what you’re all going to say. Twilight was terrible, why would we read this? Listen, LISTEN I actually love The Host. It was really well done, and it definitely Stephanie Meyer’s better novel. The movie adaptation sucked ass but I actually DO still read this book over and over again. It’s a sci-fi novel about alien’s coming to Earth and taking over host bodies. They do this on lots of planets, and Earth is their newest requistion. It’s also the only planet to fight back well enough that the aliens actually think they might win. It’s not as weird as it sounds. It’s a love story, and it goes far more in depth with the meaning of life and stuff like that then Twilight could dream of, so give it a try.

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood: Actually amazing. I read it for class like… idek, 5 years ago maybe? When I heard it was getting it’s own show I was like !!!! but I haven’t actually watched the show version yet, so I have no idea how it compares to the novel. The novel is fucking amazing though. Legit made me cry. However, if you have a sexual trauma or trigger, this might be a difficult read in some select parts :/ Still fucking worth it times ten. I literally bought the book when my class was over, it was so good (the teacher actually, actually handed out copies, how insane is that? She was amzing)

Beloved by Toni Morrison: FUCK SO GOOD. I’ve read it twice, both times around school, and got to write papers on it twice as well. This is… this is one hell of a book. Both times I read it, I got so much more of it than the first time. THERE IS SO MUCH TO UNPACK. It’s about a former slave whose haunted by the baby daughter she killed to prevent her children from ending up slaves as well. This was just before slavery was abolished, as well, and while her baby daughter died, her other three kids lived. However, now her home is haunted, and the baby ACTUALLY comes back. It’s crazy and amazing and one of my favorite novels of all time. I can’t pick favorites guys, okay, but I love this one so fucking much.

Pellinor Series by Alison Croggon: Listen. Listen. I read this book when I was in high school immediately after I hurt my back so bad I was stuck in bed for a week, and literally continue to have issues with too this day. I CANNOT TELL YOU what the fucking plot was, and apparently there are 2 more books in the series that I didn’t know about, BUT I LOVED AND ADORED THIS BOOK OKAY IT WAS A WONDERFUL FANTASY NOVEL AND IT HAS A FEMALE LEAD ALRIGHT ITS GREAT JUST TAKE MY WORD FOR IT AND READ IT

Uglies Series by Scott Westserfeld: I remember finally getting my hands on this series and reading it in like, two days. Idk. It was great. If you can’t tell, I love fantasy and sci-fi and horror, which all mesh together horribly and you can never tell them apart. This isn’t horror though, just the other two. It’s about a world where when people turn a certain age, they get to become a “pretty’ which means to have surgery done to make them look perfect - only the reason for this is to dumb down society. Read it. I love it.

Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead: I love vampire novels. If you couldn’t tell, this is a vampire novel. It’s one of my preferred series though, I think Mead did an amazing job crafting the world she crafts. Vampires aren’t under wraps, nor are they inherently evil, but they do work in a really weird system where you have the Special vampires who the other vampires protect, and then like the bodyguard vampires. I can’t fully remember, it’s been a long time. But regardless, I remember this being one of the few novel series that made me cry, and I still love it to this day.

Harry Potter by JK Rowling: I thought this was such a give in that I didn’t put it on the list until now but actually like. Super good. I grew up in this series and sometimes I talk about it and remember I’m 24 cause some people I know have never read it and IT WAS LITERALLY MY CHILDHOOD. Still think it’s worth it, even as I poke more and more holes in the story, because the older you get, the more you start to recognize problematic things. Clearly, Harry Potter was meant for children, not an adult who wants to critize everything. GOOD READ THOUGH

Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell: I grew up the girl writing fanfiction hid away in the back of the class because I didn’t want anyone to know. I look up to the people older than me at the time who developed and crafted the world we live in now, where Fanfiction is almost acceptable. Reading this novel... brought me right back to the Harry Potter days when the fandom was sitll new, underground, and ao3 didn’t exist. Honestly... it’s a really good book, and really hits home for people like me who write fanfiction and want nothing more than to write novels one day.

Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin: But actually the books are really good. I fucking adore the show and that’s what got me into the books, but the books are HELLA good. Weirdly, Daenery’s Targaryen is not the most well written character ever, and I blame it on Martin being a guy, becasue sometimes I actually hate her in the novels (seriously, he makes her sound... like a child, which I guess she kind of is) BUT one of my favorite things in the novel is that her husband Khal Drogo does not sexually assault her in the novels. He’s super sweet and good to her, and honestly just. Yep. Yeah. Good series.

What Happened to Lani Garver by Carol Plum Ucci: The most heartwrenching book of all time. I can’t tell you how long I cried over this book. I’m literally getting tearful as I think about it. It is... fucking BEAUTIFUL. I want to read it right this fucking second. It’s about a girl who was in remission from cancer, but who joins the cheerleading team. Only, shes technically too tall to be a cheerleader, so she gets an ED which actually puts her at risk for remission. She meets Lani Garver - the literal emodiment of a nonbinary person before that term every existed. Lani Garver is... a fucking angel. An actual angel okay. They help the main character through so much, specifically bullying, and Lani taught ME so much when I read it. The author refers to Lani as he, but remember that it was written before nonbinary was an accepted (possible even before it was a fully labeled) thing, but the book is SO worth reading. I. I’m going to go read it again.

Streams of Babel and it’s sequel The Fire Will Fall by Carol Plum Ucci: I originally read the second novel first on accident, which just goes to show you how good an author Ucci is becasue I didn’t even NOTICE until I got to the end and saw there was a first novel, oops. But, its a take on the lives of 4 kids in a situation of chemical warfare, and what happens to them when they get poisoned by the water. I think one of the kids is a fucking comptuer genius. Idk, I can’t fully remember, but it is one of my favorite novels, so check them out.

I’m like 100% that there’s more I could list but those are the ones I could currently recall BECAUSE THIS IS A MONUMENTAL TASK AND I LOVE BOOKS

#Anonymous #asks #book recs #book rec #books

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