and asked how she was whatev and then she had to leave and she was like

“where is arya?” catelyn sounds tired.  she asks the question too frequently.  their second daughter has a penchant for running about, coming to table with leaves in her hair and with grubby knees.  it’s not so much a question as a habit.  

ned gets to his feet.  he knows that catelyn’s question, or habit, or whatever it is, is a command as well.  find your daughter, ned.  because ned, alone of anyone in the castle, has a way for finding arya.

he goes out into the bailey and closes his eyes for a moment.  he imagines laughter–lya riding her horse around the yard, ben not holding his shield high enough. it hurt less to remember lya like that–when she was a little girl still, and wild like a wolf, always on horseback…

he opens his eyes.  the stables, he decides today.  it seems as likely a place as any to find his wayward daughter.  she was about the same age that lya had been when she’d started to ride horses. even if father had tried to restrict her, she was always sneaking into the stables and out the other end on the back of a pony, or a horse.  she’d have an apple and a smile for hodor, and there wasn’t a thing that the stableboys would deny her.

when arya learns to ride, i’d best keep an eye on her, he thinks, and the flash of amusement that accompanies the thought turns sour.  elsewise she’ll ride away from me and not come back.  he doesn’t want to think of that yet.  she’s only a girl.

“what are you doing?” he asks when he finds her in the stable.  she’s still very small, coming not even to his hip, and he knows catelyn will groan at the state of her hem when she comes inside.  

“i just like looking at them,” arya says.  “they’re sweet.”  she chews her lip, and her eyes are far away.  “friendly.”

“aye.  there are some mean ones out there, but we’ve only got friendly horses at winterfell.”  he crouches down, eyes narrowing slightly.  her eyes are red and puffy and there are dried tearstains on her face.

“what are these?” he asks her gently, cupping her cheek in his hands.  arya’s come back to them with scrapes on her knees and elbows and eyes alight with excitement.  she’s tripped and sprained ankles and bruised bones, but he’s not once seen her cry.

tears well in her eyes again.  “it’s nothing,” she lies, chewing her lip again.

“arya stark,” he says, trying to sound stern, but he can’t–not now, not truly.  he takes her in his arms instead as she cries again.  “my sweet girl.  my lovely sweet girl.”

arya hiccups, and he kisses her forehead.  “dry those tears.  have you tricked hullen or hodor into letting you ride a pony already, or have you saved that for me?”

arya sniffles for a moment, then his words seem to hit her.  “ride?” she breathes, as if hardly daring to believe it.  

“aye,” he says.  “a proper northern girl should be at ease on a horse.”

“i thought i was too young!” she is positively alight with joy at the prospect of it, and that alone is enough to set ned’s mind at ease.  whatever had brought tears to her face is fully forgotten at the prospect of being allowed on horseback.

“you probably are,” he says.  “but i expect i’ll always think that.  it’s time.”  and he picks her up and tucks her underneath one arm the way that brandon always used to carry lya and arya’s giggle sounds so like lya’s his heart freezes for a moment.  she’s not gone, not truly.  not if arya laughs her laugh.  and he vows then and there, his daughter tucked under his arm that he’ll protect lya’s laugh as truly as he protects lya’s secret.

“hullen,” he calls, “i’ll need a pony.”

Date night


Zamara stood staring at the door to her wife’s study, hands clasped together, rubbing furiously. She was probably busy, looking through her books, doing whatever she did, but this was important. Zamara only ever entered without telling when there was a emergency, such as when the kitchen was on fire or Joanna got stuck someplace how. This would be the first time she would come in demanding something, and she knew Azrael probably wasn’t going to like it. But…

Today was their 50th anniversary, the day they had first mated and become bound to one another. She hadn’t bothered to do it every year, to her that was simply a blink of a eye, but this year it was different. Not only was this their 50th, but she was immortal now. Death could not touch her in its present form, leaving her untouched and free of its restrictions. She had already made plans for it, all of it, using the money stashed away. Now was the time to ask, to just do it.

Slowly Zamara opened the door, holding her breath as she stepped inside. Azrael was at her desk, reading like always. She was beautiful, just like the day they had met, only know there was a customary feeling to the rush. Nimbly, though, she made her way to the desk, stopping right at the edge. She stared, composing her thoughts, thinking over what to say, what to do. Finally she sighed, opened her mouth and spoke.

“Azrael…today is our 50th anniversary, the day we first mated.” She began, letting her breathing come out calm and steady, hiding her anxiety and excitement, hoping. “I want to make this day special, Azrael, I want it to mark the beginning of eternity for us. So…I was wondering if you would like to go on a date, with me. Out into the city.” She says before biting down on her bottom lip, waiting.


Jay wasn’t sure what he had done for Bora to say that. He was rubbing the back of his neck lightly sighing. A part of him wanting to stand and fight her on whatever it was. “Is something wrong?” He asked just not understanding what was going on. “Because if I did something then you need to talk to me about it. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what is wrong.”

There wasn’t much she could say. Her emotions were all over the place and it was really becoming overwhelming for her. Looking at him only made her chest feel heavier, making it harder for her to breathe. She hated how she was like this sometimes. She was so scared to lose him, that she’d rather push him away herself than for him to leave. Shaking her head, she tried to say something, but no words came out. It was just a loud sigh before she burst into tears.

I’ve been talking to this girl lately and we did some stuff or whatever and I was taking home. and I noticed she was just looking at me. I asked if everything was okay. She just nodded. But soon after she told me she was sorry for moving so fast and she really likes me and doesn’t want me to be scared off and leave like the last guy. And my heart sank. I let her know I wasn’t going anywhere and want to be with her for a long time (truth).
The reason my heart sank is because I never really considered how hard it is for a girl to trust a guy and get into a relationship after a guy has used her. And I had to take a hard look at myself because I’ve been the guy to do that before (not a brag at all. It’s fucked up) and I felt terrible just knowing that because of me a girl has had this conversation with a guy before. No girl deserves to be used. And we really have no good or even half decent excuse to do this to girls. Shits not cool or commendable and if you’re a guy that does this and your friends do commend you on how many hoes you have or girls you’ve played. Ya friends not shit. And neither are you. But I’m not either.


whatever good nature had stayed with her from her interactions with said ‘pink-haired dog’ quickly dissipated, leaving icy hatred and murderous intent coming off her in waves. threaten her, sure. she’ll give it back as good as she gets and she’ll enjoy the fight – but karin? you’re crossing the fucking line buddy. no matter how close you are to the boss, as his fucking play pet. turning on her heel, tayuya stalked towards the white haired male and hazel eyes have darkened, narrowed in a glare. husky tones are dripping with malice, daring the shinobi to repeat himself.  ❝ you wanna say that again, dickless?

     A crooked grin split his lips further at the bloodthirsty look she gave him. Those who feel victim to their emotions so easily were hilarious in how pathetic they were. He threw his arms out in feigned confusion, giving her the most innocent look. “  Why, Tayuya, you have such a scary face all of a sudden. Did something I said bother you that much? Does it bother you when I speak poorly of that bitch?  “ Perhaps he couldn’t judge her so much on her show of emotion – seeing her react so drastically made him almost giddy with amusement. Of course, he still moved his foot, poised to dodge the blow certain to be swung at him in a moment. 

I’m on mobile so no tags, please forgive me. I recently like within the last day went back to Tera on a fresh lancer and let me tell you it is horrifying. I don’t really mind in the first dungeons if my healers are a mess but I’m having an atrocious time even in the middle range dungeons. Somehow despite getting a boss pretty cornered and away from spikes our healer decided to stand right on top of them and die refusing to use the free res that we all got so we had to pick her up after. She would also just randomly stop doing anything for minutes at a time in the middle of fights and nearly let me die because of it.
My other fun today was despite asking a mystic multiple times for heals she just spammed her tanky thrall and attacked everything before we were even ready? We all about wiped in the boss and she couldn’t figure out how to res our archer? Like look if you wanna dps and leave motes whatever. But you have to heal us somehow. Having to stop tanking to self heal isn’t something I want to keep doing and risk aggro flopping to a squish class.

Tl;dr it’s okay if you have to take breaks or don’t understand something but say something instead of making me think you’re dragging us for a trap run


Augh that sounds infuriating. I always tell newer players to try to make it clear if they’re new because unfortunately a lot of people will assume people are on alts first thing if you don’t speak up. I’ve seen it on a few games right now. >.<

– Mod Mhi