I will rule for a thousand years, and none shall defy my
I am the sole queen of these lands. Sole heir to the winter
and the forests and the streams, sole arbiter of the echoing city streets of
stone. So many would keep me from my throne, my true calling. But I have earned
my place. I have shown them all what it means to rule.
It started with my sister. From my first hazy memories I
remember her shadow weighing down on me, stifling my every move. “One day one
of you must rule,” our father said to us, night after night when we gathered at
his feet. “If it must be one of you, then I will be the one to choose.”
How could we learn to be sisters with such a decree? All I
wanted was a friend, someone to look up to, someone to whisper to at night to
keep the darkness away. But I learned quickly that that was only the surest
path to her scorn. She saw me as weak, as foolish, as younger. I would reach
out to her to pull me up and she would shove me right back down. I would show
her my weakness and she would pry it open wide, ragged and bloody.
I didn’t realize the significance, at first, of what our
father wanted us to become. Didn’t know what it meant to be queen, or why it
was something worth fighting for. But as I learned from my sister, I learned to
covet it, to hunger for it so fiercely that everything else tasted dried out
and dull. She wanted to rule so that all would obey her. I wanted to rule so
she could not.
The first time she tried to kill me, it was my nurse who
gave it away. She woke me up in the dead of night and bundled me into a closet,
told me not to make a noise no matter what followed. Then the guards came,
swords drawn, visors lowered. They were only boys infatuated with my sister,
but at the time everyone seemed impossibly old to me, unstoppably strong. I
feared them, but I believed my nurse invincible too.
They taught me, quickly, how wrong I was.
After that, my father sent me to the country for a spell.
Armed guards, a fleet of tutors, and an ailing count who watched over me with a
gaze like sharpened knives. Sometimes the threats came in letters that the
count would burn before he thought I could read them. Sometimes, It was
assassins in the night.
Worst of all, though, were the long silences. The heaviness
of her inaction dragging me to the bottom, drowning me. I never knew when the
next assault would come for me.
Slowly, finally, I could wait no longer.
I found the woman in the country market, slender fingers
grazing over her wares of pewter charms and crystals and bundled flowers. Her
skin was smooth, her hair like silk, and when she looked my way, I saw the kiss
of winter in her eyes.
“You look troubled,” she said, and the words wrapped around
me like a soft breeze. “You look far too troubled for someone your age.”
I looked away then, ashamed to be so young. If I was older,
if I was cleverer, I wouldn’t have to be sent away. I could prove myself worthy
of the crown. I could beat my sister for good, beat her just enough that she’d
never need attack me again. How foolish, that I thought winning once would be
“Come closer.” She swept her hand over her goods. “Perhaps I
might ease some of your pain.”
I started to meet with her every time I could sneak away
from the count’s estate. It wasn’t often, but her lessons in the ways of magic
filled me up with a sustenance I didn’t know I craved. I wanted to be her, to
share her easy confidence and capability, to bend the world toward me with a
subtle call the way she did. Her poultices cleared away blemishes and made
water drinkable, but they also could boil blood, shatter bones, freeze a pond.
She let me practice these skills as though they were interchangeable. She let
me build on them, stringing them together like beads on a necklace, as I
practiced on the woods beyond her hut.
The more power I gained, the more I sought. At long last, I
understood the hunger in my sister’s belly. For now, I hungered too.
“You have a keen mind for magic,” she told me, when I worked
something particularly cruel on a sparrow we found feasting on her garden. “A
cruel mind. But I think a girl like you has to be cruel.”
“My sister is cruel. I just wish to survive.”
“Then I hope I’ve equipped you well,” she said. “Be like the wintervine. Feast on cold, on nothingness. For they have given you nothing. Use it to sprout your ice, your thorns.”
I looked at the wintervine where it flourished in the ice, and I felt its loneliness, its stubbornness, its scorn.
At long last I was of age, and my father sent for me once
more. The time to choose was drawing near, but, he confided, in some ways he
feared us both. His kingdom needed a decisive leader, yes, a sturdy leader, but
compassion, too, he said, was called for. He did not see that he’d been the one
to rob us of that. He didn’t see the dark seeds he’d planted in both our minds take
My sister began her attempts anew, but this time, I was
The first men she sent to kill me simply disappeared. They
became nothing more than char burned into the cobbles of my bedroom floor. The
next, though, I made sure she saw, their flayed corpses piled at the palace
gates. Cruelty was my reflex, now, and each test made it stronger still.
“You cannot beat me,” she hissed, over a banquet table while
our father entertained. “I deserve this. I will earn this.”
She cut her steak with a furious scrape of knife and fork.
The noise grated at my soul. When was the last time she had shown kindness? It
had been carved out of her, if it had ever been there at all.
Father wanted to make one of us a queen. He wanted someone
compassionate. Maybe compassion was still in me; maybe not.
But it would never be in her.
As she swallowed, the lump of meat grew thorns. I could
almost feel it myself as I directed it, as it swelled inside her throat, tore
its way through her flesh. She gagged and choked, and I imagined she gagged and
choked on all the hatred she’d let fester for years and years.
I wanted the coldness, the loneliness I felt to be visible
to everyone. I wanted those thorns.
Frost sprouted from my fingertips and webbed across the
banquet table. She scrabbled for a goblet of wine to try to wash the meat down,
but everything turned cold. A guard stepped forward—but she deserved no
kindness, no comfort. I never felt her embrace, so why should she feel the
same? He withered, cold and empty, before he could reach her.
“What is the meaning of this?” my father cried. “Stop this
But the cold was radiant, alive now, warming me even as it
drew warmth away from everything. The dark thorns in my sister’s throat
flourished, drinking up the cold, and twined their way across the table to wrap
around everyone’s limbs. My breath hung in the air before me as I stood,
untouched, unsnared by the darkness and frost.
I had to beat her. I could not let her win.
And if I could feel no warmth, no freedom without her
darkness over me, then neither could anyone.
I do not remember what came next, but it did not come for a
long time. Icicles hung from the chandeliers; black thorns sprouted from the
walls. All was still and glistening and cold. I walked through the hall like a
phantom, soundless, for it was how I felt. But I was all that remained of my
sister’s hatred. I was her greed given form.
And I will rule for a thousand years. With this cruelty
beating inside me, my sister’s words, her greed, her anger—with the coldness
she left inside me—I will rule for a thousand more.
alright guys, i am going to try to keep this short, so i’ll simply ask the most relevant question: ARE YOU ALL CRAZY???????? i think this is about it, really. because never in my wildest imagination i could have expected this blog to be so appreciated, and for you all to show such an incredible amount of love for my smol Lord Commander. i’ve been here for about three months and, quite frankly, what even was my life before i met you all? all of you are so incredibly sweet, friendly, kind, talented, amazing — all of you welcomed me in such a manner that i cannot even express with words. i promised i’d make this a tiny thing instead of rambling as i tend to do, but, please, ALWAYS remember that all of you are so important to me and, definitely, you make my day a better day every single day simply by existing. i love you all
🐧. SOBS, lol. Seriously though started RPing Ramsay in B.C — jk it was actually in :August 5th, 2016 <– that my FIRST Ramsay blog was made. This Ramsay blog is the third but been rping as Ramsay since Aug 5th, 2016. Like cooool. right? The more you know *rainbow sign*.
You all have no idea how thankful I am to have you all in my life :’) !! You’re all fantastic human beings who bring SO MUCH LIFE & SO MUCH BEAUTY ON THE DASH, with that A+ writing and muse of yours. Such quality blogs that I follow & that follow me, such delight. Let me just say how honored I am to have you all in my life. Maybe I don’t roleplay with half of you. ( but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy your muse or your threads — or wonder how would our interactions be. )
And the ones I’ve been roleplaying with, or just started roleplaying with. I am so, so thankful for all our, ( long threads/ short threads/ random asks/ memes/ crack —- I enjoy it all from you slayers. ) You’re all bunch of special snowflakes, okay? Each and every one of you bring something different on the dash. You all bring creative stories I enjoy reading every time it’s on the dash. You breathe life into your character. Not all Ramsay’s/ Jon’s/ Sansa’s —- or Cersei’s are the same. And there is NOTHING wrong with that. If you put your heart and soul into your writing and muse, trust me. People will love it, & they do. I know I do. And this goes out to all the different fandoms I follow! Like you’re all just admirable. And should be proud of your portray on your muse(s). Those who have been with me since the very beginning ( from my old Ramsay blog to here. )–- Thank you for STILL being here and standing by my side and supporting my widdo flaya, Ramsay Bolton. :’) You have no idea how much I love this muse. He’s really, — something.
Shoutout to the G.O.T fandom for being one of a kind!! For standing up for one another, we’ve had some tough times, and we’ve survived it all. I am honestly SO THANKFUL for this fandom. And I don’t regret joining it. Made friends, close friends & a best friend. ( just — met a lot of people who mean the world to me, and still getting to know a lot of new people who are already unique gems. )
Shoutout to W.W.E fandom: I have some old roleplaying partners that are following me on this blog. People who meant/ and still mean a lot to me :’) !! People who I roleplayed with, in the stone age. When giant gifs were a thing, only one type of font. No icons, no fancy blog. Honestly, I love you all who followed me on this blog, we’ve watched each other grow :’) !! sobs. okay.
I love you all so much. ♥️ I hope I get to continue enjoying that flawless muse of your, all your threads and you ( the muns. ) You don’t understand how honor I am to just be able to call you my friends, rping partners — fellow followers. And I thank you for sticking by my side since day one.
I am grateful for every one of you. Honestly : Now moving on to where I thank you all: Also it’s gonna get long for a few of y’all CAUSE I am MUSHY AS FUCK. These are to all those who I appericate : If I forgot a few I am sorry.
TO ALL THE FLAYERS I ADMIRE // WANT TO GET TO KNOW // ADORE FROM AFAR —:
Authors Note: Titled after the song ‘Enchanted’ by Taylor Swift because I’ve had it on repeat for days. Story in which the reader is mutated using the same methods as those used in the Deadpool movie. This AU is based around the idea that the first words your soulmate speaks to you are written on your wrist. Enjoy!
Being soulmates was probably the
strangest thing the world had to offer. Sure, there were all kinds of love in
the world – a lot of people ended up with platonic soulmates rather than
romantic ones, from Pietros understanding – and he had always considered Wanda
his soulmate. Despite the outright lack of writing on his arm, she had always
been beside him, and they had always cherished each other. Maybe that was why,
when she had met the Vision and practically flung herself at him, he suddenly
felt very alone. The android, though being much like Pietro in the fact that he
too was lacking any special words on his wrist, due to the nature of his
existence, was honored to be his sisters soulmate, and they had been inseparable
It was hard to share his sister,
and the void in his heart only got bigger the longer he was around her and
Vision; despite her protesting, he had slowly began distancing himself. It was
hard at first, but once he realized she was content to be with her android,
things were much easier for him. He focused instead on training, and after
several months of being a trainee, him and the rest of the new Avengers finally
earned the title and were allowed out on missions of their own. It was one of
the first missions they were on, in fact, that he had met you.
Speaking of Bobby fuckin’ Flay, what’s the deal with Bobby Fuckin’ Flay? There was a time when he was just the whitest Iron Chef of them all, and that was OK. Now he’s the star of every third show on Food Network. Does Bobby Flay have a family? A home he can go back to? Is Food Network keeping him against his will, or is he a food automaton? You can watch him in Iron Chef, Grill It! With Bobby Flay, Throwdown With Bobby Flay, Worst Chefs In America, Food Network Star, Boy Meets Grill, Grillin’ And Chillin’, and probably a dozen other shows that air at 3 a.m. that even I can’t be bothered to watch. Let Bobby Flay sleep!
I understand the need for a corporation to latch onto a star and squeeze the life out of them. Disney does it all the time with people like Miley Cyrus. Food Network does it to Bobby Flay and Guy Fieri – only Guy Fieri is such an endless font of doucheisms and frosted tips that they could give him his own network and he’d probably manage to fill it with 36 hours of programming per day, with not a single repeated Hawaiian shirt. Bobby Flay, however, always seems just this side of slapping someone for over spicing their fish and walking off set forever. The man needs a break. And so do we as an audience.
Okay so I figured that I’d upload this as a text post too for people who didn’t fancy clicking the link. ;) This is the first part of a longer Bucky fanfiction. I’ve been planning it for some time and I’m super excited to finally be writing it. It will be a Bucky x OC but I want all of you to imagine yourself as the OC. She’s only there so that I can practice physical descriptions. :3 Enjoy!
Autumn Thorn: Part 1
Devin May was loyal and hardworking and efficient. Every
task set before him was completed with as much speed and precision as could be
conjured. Devin May devoted himself to those he was loyal to and the causes
that they fought for; his talent was duly rewarded with a promotion.
Devin May was assigned to guard the Winter Soldier.