tell me why is it that… GRRM wrote one of the most sexually suggestive and raunchy songs in asoiaf, the bear and the maiden fair… and explicitly tied it thematically to Jaime and Brienne… yet people still… don’t think they’re going to get it on at some point???
(Context: My two players are INCREDIBLY suspicious of one of the tenants of the house they’re staying in and have decided to spy on him. The Druid has turned into a spider and the rogue has climbed up his window on the outside of the house. They have discovered that his room is completely bare save a bookshelf. The druid thinks he’s a ghost possessing a suit of armor, which is correct.)
Rogue: So there's nothing in here but the bookshelf? No bed or chairs or anything?
Me (DM): Nope. He’s just sitting on the floor.
Druid: Is he reading?
Rogue: What’s he reading?
Me: He’s reading a book titled ‘How To Pick Up Fair Maidens’
Druid: OH MY GOD HE ISN’T EVIL, HE’S JUST A GHOST BOY LOOKING FOR LOVE!
It was an evil doom that set her in his path. For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die?
Something that was finished a few month ago: Yharnam’s bestseller “How to pick up fair maidens”, my convention helper book. Perfect for storing snacks, convention tickets, business cards and even drinks.
Made out of cardboard, leather, acrylic paint, glue and thread.
For she is a fair maiden, fairest lady of a house of queens. And yet I know not how I should speak of her. When I first looked on her and perceived her unhappiness, it seemed to me that I saw a white flower standing straight and proud, shapely as a lily, and yet knew that it was hard, as if wrought by elf-wrights out of steel. Or was it, maybe, a frost that had turned its sap to ice, and so it stood, bitter-sweet, still fair to see, but stricken, soon to fall and die?
In the modern world, the goddesses don’t wait for men to fight their battles.
They take weapons and find battles.
Artemis has her hood up and goes hunting after dark. The city’s just another forest in need of a mistress to tip the scale between prey and predator and everyone always said her mouth looked better when it was painted blood red.
There’s too many tears in the streets. Aphrodite thinks it shouldn’t matter. That everyone should love who they want how they want, but it should all start with giving love to yourself. A couple of counseling degrees later and she’s started a movement. She’s glad they’re understanding the strength found in the heart.
Everyone is always at war, and Athena nurtures warriors. Ones that fight with their minds and ones who fight with their fists. Hera started a website and it nearly crashed in the first hour. There’s no room for weakness. Everyone is learning to be Queens.
Then there is one final lesson, the softness amongst the rough. They gather before her throne, and Persephone whispers softly into their ears that it’s ok to love fiercely and leave things behind. Hackles are still hackles no matter how pretty they are. Take your freedom and hope it makes the world burn.
There are no fair maidens here, there is only immortals with ichor and steel //L.H.Z
A/N:Don’t ask me what this trash is because I don’t know. I’ve been doing Driver’s Ed shit all week and my brain isn’t functioning properly sorry if this is terrible lmao. I don’t have the energy to edit this either pls don’t hate me
Remus woke with a start. Sharp, loud cries echoed through the
dark bedroom. He let out a tired groan as he rubbed at his eyes, moving your
arm off of his bare chest. He did his best to gracefully scoot out of the bed
without waking you. Your chin slipped off his shoulder and rested softly on the
corner of his pillow. A sleepy smile grew on his face as you stirred a little,
mumbling his name and smiling in your sleep.
The baby in the crib at the window let out a piercing cry, and
Remus winced, glancing at you. You’d woken up, but he didn’t need to know that.
You watched him pad the rest of the way over to the white wooden crib after
mentally deciding you were still sleeping. He peered down at the baby, smiling
gently at her for a couple seconds as he fumbled with a beautiful lavender
throw Lily had made for your daughter draped across a rocking chair Remus’
grandfather had built. You watched him through squinted eyes and blurry vision
as he lifted your daughter carefully from her crib. He swaddled her in the
blanket, hushing her quietly and rocking her in his arms. He smiled softly at
her, “Hello, my love. What’s the matter? Oh, sweetheart, stop crying.
Nothing to fret over, angel. Daddy’s going to fix you right up.”
You felt a smile grace your face as you watched Remus. You
didn’t think you’d ever seen a more beautiful sight; your whole world standing
together, painted in soft, pallid moonlight pouring through the open blinds. You
watched Remus leave the room, coming back shortly with a bottle and your now
quiet daughter. He took a seat in the rocking chair, lifting the bottle to the
baby’s mouth. If she hadn’t been quiet before, she definitely was now. Remus
gazed down at her, an expression full of love and adoration for the girl
evident on his face. You wanted to giggle at the smile on his face; the ‘stupidly
in love’ grin he always gave you. Your daughter finished the bottle up quickly,
but still she remained restless. You frowned. A bottle normally put her right
back to sleep. You contemplated getting up to give Remus a break, but then he
began talking to the child, and as you listened, you decided you wouldn’t dare interrupt
“My beautiful little angel,”
he whispered, staring down at her. He began to rock slowly. His fingers danced
on the baby’s belly for a couple seconds. She laughed and Remus smiled wider.
What a beautiful sound it was, her laugh. Your husband spoke again, “I was
always a night owl, too. Your mummy though,” he paused to laugh, “well, that
woman passes out at seven and doesn’t wake up until noon the next day. But,
sometimes, she can’t sleep. It’s normal, darling, don’t worry. When Mummy can’t
sleep, I always tell her stories. You want to hear a story, love? I believe you’re
a tad too young to count sheep.”
Remus wiggled his fingers
on your baby’s belly once more, causing her to let out a little shriek. “I’ll
take that as a yes, then, Hope.”
Hope. You’d insisted on naming your daughter that. Not only was it
Remus’ mother’s name, but it was exactly what Remus needed when she came
around, and it was exactly what she delivered. After James, Lily, and Peter were
killed and Sirius was taken to Azkaban, Remus had fallen into a deep hole of
depression, and you couldn’t help him out of it. Most of your pregnancy was
spent alone, and the stress of it all nearly killed you and Hope both, but you
made it through. And when she was born, the twinkle in Remus’ eye return and
with each passing day of having his child, he began to smile again and your
hope for him to get better, his hope for a future, the hopes you shared for
your baby and each other had been restored. That’s what your child was, pure
You were torn from your
thoughts as Remus’ silky voice filled the room again and the story began. “Once
upon a time, there lived a princess; a beautiful, kind girl with the prettiest,
fairest smile and a knack for loving things others thought unlovable. I know what
you’re thinking, darling. This already sounds a lot like ‘Beauty and The Beast.’
Perhaps it is, in a way. The princess lived in a glorious castle called
Hogwarts where she ruled over her people in the Ravenclaw Tower, a place for
the witty ones. The castle was a big place full of magic and wonder. Her loyal
knights, Sir James and Sir Remus,” he paused and giggled quietly at himself, “lived
in the Gryffindor tower, a place for the bravest of them all. And down deep in
the dungeons of Hogwarts lived a slimy little man named Snivellus, a mad
sorcerer who wanted to see the downfall of the Princess Y/N and take her throne.”
You forced back a laugh.
Serverus Snape was many things, but he was not a mad sorcerer and only got the
chance to see your downfall once, before it was quickly taken care of. Remus
continued, “One day, Princess Y/N was with her best friend, Hademar the Owl, in
Hogwarts’ Owlery writing a note to her parents, who lived far, far away. Sir
Remus was off with his mate Sir James, chasing after the fair maiden Lily Evans.
Sir James was hooked on her, and always had a new plan to steal Lily’s heart,
which almost always involved Sir Remus doing something crazy. And so, the
princess was left unprotected by her brave knights giving Slimy Snivellus the
perfect chance to use his latest terrible sorcery on her. While the brave
knights tried to coax Lily Evans into going on a date to Hogsmeade with the
poor, lovestruck, hopeless Sir James, Snivellus sat in a dark corner with his
pathetic chemistry set, brewing up a terrible poison. He had the perfect plan
to steal Princess Y/N’s crown. He would dip a fresh apple into his nasty concoction
and trick the princess into taking a bite, putting her in a deep sleep for the
rest of your life.” He laughed a little, “And knowing Princess Y/N, it was a
pretty good plan. Her subjects wouldn’t have a hard time believing she’d
retired from her princess duties to sleep for the rest of eternity.”
You could tell Hope was
dozing, but Remus didn’t seem to care. He continued his story. “Greasy Ol’ Sniv
slithered up the steps to the owlery, a shiny red apple in his hand. Sir Remus
was still distracted with Sir James’ shenanigans and was nowhere to stop the villainous
creature. Snivellus approached Princess Y/N with a sly, disgustingly menacing
smile on his face and offered her the apple. She reached out to take the gift.
You see, Princess Y/N was very kind and always believed in second chances. But,
as soon as she touched the apple, Sir Remus felt a sick feeling in his stomach.
He knew something was wrong. So, he pulled out is magical map and searched for Princess Y/N frantically. Once he found her, he raced to the owlery, wand in hand. What’s
going to happen, my love? Hm, Hope? Think Dad- Sir Remus can save the day?”
You shifted slightly,
becoming uncomfortable. Remus glanced at you, but you shut your eyes quickly.
When you opened them up again, he was finishing up the story. “Just in time,
Sir Remus burst through the door and shouted a spell, knocking the poisoned apple
out of the princess’ hand. She started to shout at Sir Remus, not letting him
explain his side of the story before resorting to screaming, as usual.” You
tried not to snort at that little comment. Remus just put on a stupid smirk and
kept story-telling, “Sir James was right behind Sir Remus, sweet Lily hot on
his trail. He put magical, unreakable handcuffs on greasy, slimy, disgusting
Snivellus. Lily gave him a victorious kiss and Sir James nearly went into
cardiac arrest. As for the princess, she’d stopped yelling and allowed Sir
Remus some speaking time. He finished his explanation of why he’d saved her ungrateful, shouting life with a brave smile and the princess’
heart thumped out of her chest – her very nice chest. She jumped for joy and
thanked Sir Remus a million hundred times. She gave him lots of thank you
kisses, and thank you other things, and eventually told Sir Remus that she was
in love with him. Yeah, she was so whipped, Hope. After begging a million times,
the princess finally convinced Sir Remus to marry her. As for Sir James and the
fair maiden Lily Evans, they had a big beautiful wedding and loved each other
until the very end…and still do. The Hogwarts castle was a peace with its new
Prince and Princess and Daddy and Mummy lived happily ever after.”
Remus kissed the top of
Hope’s head. He stood up and placed the sleeping baby back in her crib
carefully with a whisper, “The End. Goodnight, my love. Daddy loves you so
With a yawn, he sleepily
walked back to the bed, laying down carefully beside you. You pursed your lips
and shuffled around, coming to lay on his chest after he’d burrowed back into
the blankets. You smiled, “Princess Y/N, huh?”
Remus let out a loud groan
before pushing your giggling figure off his chest, rolling over on his side and
hiding his crimson cheeks. You laughed, placing a soft kiss on his cheek and
wrapping your arms and legs around him, “Goodnight, my brave prince.”
I love Do I Wanna Know from
Artic Monkeys. Even though, the song is hot as hell, I choose to write a
fluffy oneshot. The story takes place after almost a year of Ivar and Emer’s marriage. I hope my sister wives will like it.
I love you all.
He fought with all his strength not
to get back. His efforts proved useless. Ivar knew he was wrong as soon as the
words left his mouth. He had hurt her. The pain in her eyes was unbearable. But
to lose her would be worst. He could deal with Emer hating him, but to live
without her was unthinkable. He would be hollow, no purpose beyond bring pain
“I don’t want this child!”, he said
those words with a certainty in his voice. But he knew that deep inside it was
everything he had ever wanted. A boy with her eyes, those eyes that always made
Ivar vulnerable. A girl whose hair was kissed by the fire as his beloved.
She didn’t cry, at least not in
front of him. But she fought. As brave as Frigga to protect the little one
“I’ll not get rid of a blessing!
Can’t you see how blessed we are? It’s a gift from God, from your Gods too.
You’re selfish. And you’re offending me. This is our child, you should be proud
of the life growing inside me.”
Ivar groaned in response, “Selfish?
Am I selfish? You’re selfish. Can’t you see. What will I do if I lose you? This
child might be as twisted as I am. It’s decided, you won’t have this baby. What
makes you think your God would bless me?”
Emer replied, “If you don’t want
our child, I’m leaving.”
This said, Emer prepared her
departure. She was going to the farm he had given her as a morning gift. It’s been a week since then. He waited for her
to come back. But she could be as tenacious as him. It was painful not to have
her warm and soft body against his chest in their bed. The sweet fragrance of
her hair acting like balm against the aching in his bones during those nights
in which his pain was excruciating. Her little hands holding his, while he
embraced her by the waist.
The first gleam of morning rays
flooding over her auburn hair, lighting every blade of grass, shining from each
leaf in the fields. But the only green he cared about was the color of her
sleepy eyes, looking at him every morning. She would open her eyes lazily,
smiling in the process. Her hand going to his face, caressing his beard.
She could die giving birth, by a disease,
of old age. They were fated to die. But they would live the days the norns
have woven into their rope of destiny first. These thoughts in mind, he called Sigvard. Ivar would
bring her back.
Emer felt so abandoned. When she
noticed that she was not bleeding, the woman was overwhelmed with joy. They
were going to be parents. Their love made in flesh. A girl or a boy with his
dark hair, maybe even with those indigo blue eyes. Emer feared the baby would
suffer from the same pain as Ivar. She would not lie she was terrified of
bringing a life to this world only to suffer. She did not know how to bring the
subject to Ivar. How was he going to react? Would he be delighted?
He only noticed the change in her
appetite. Berries and apples were never enough. Ivar was always laughing while
watching her eating so eagerly. Emer would raise her eyebrows in annoyance,
struggling to words out of her full mouth. What only added to Ivar’s amusement.
Her hunger for him increased too.
As soon as they were alone, she
would push him onto the bed. Ivar would laugh with her impatience. Sometimes
she would not even remove all their clothing. He never complained, loving
watching her in charge. Their lovemaking has changed too. She was much more
sensitive to his caresses than before, squirming with the slightest touch and
becoming undone faster than usual, stiffening and moaning his name until her
throat was dry. Then in the last weeks she was quieter than usual, avoiding his
touch, going to bed before him. He could see she was worried about something. But
whenever he inquired her, she would always give vague answers. He felt
helpless, trying to help her without the knowledge of what was troubling her.
His answer came when in one night
he held her by the waist, feeling a bulge that was uncommon. She tried to
remove his hand in vain. It was how he discovered he was going to be a father.
Her head was resting against the
wooden tub, Astrid was caressing her already clean scalp. Emer felt so relaxed
that was almost sleeping, her hand resting protectively
on her growing belly. Astrid was not there anymore. Maybe little Ragnild needed
her. She would finish her bath by herself.
When she felt a big hand against
her stomach, she almost jumped from the water opening her eyes to find Ivar
looking at her with devotion and regret. They said nothing, just kept staring
deep into each other’s eyes. Ivar’s hands started caressing her belly that was
hiding the life they were going to bring to the world. His eyes only leaving her
face when Ivar felt a move against his fingers. He looked at Emer in confusion.
She smiled at him, tears running down her cheeks. He could say they were not
tears of sadness. Her hand covered his fingers and, this time together, they
felt the life sparkling from inside her.
Trying her bestto get control overher wobbly voice, Emer questioned
him. “What are you
Ivar lowered his head until their
foreheads were touching and their eyes locked on one another, “I’ll always
crawl back to you.”
Footage of me when Jaime and Brienne reunite and Jaime remembers that he’d much rather be the one handed guy who couldn’t even cut his own food and still leapt into a bear pit to save a maiden fair than be his sister’s minion.
-all the ways they avoided saying “sex”
-cats turned into sexy ladies on two separate occasions
-the ensign that Chekov was hitting on in “The Apple” that beat the shit out of two grown men
-“how many times can we reuse this set before they notice?”
-“how many times can we reuse this actor before they notice?”
-the spray painted pipes glued to plywood, glued to the walls to make them look more legit
-all aliens wear go-go boots
-“lieutenant please call all the ship’s most important personnel for beam down to this hostile planet”
-everyone else has like an actual shirt under their uniform but Kirks just got a little black collar sewn into his uniform so that when it gets ripped we get to see his chest
-every ship had its own insignia and this is never mentioned in any of the other series (not even Enterprise as far as I know)
-all the other captains are assholes, all of them
-“Fear not fair maiden!”, “Sorry neither.”
-the prime directive is more a suggestion than a rule
when i was little i assumed the song American Pie was a fantasy story from the perspective of a court jester who’d been unfairly banished by the Evil New Court Jester, who assassinated the king and banned all music in the music kingdom.
so our narrator sets out on his lonely journey and the good old boys drinking whisky and rye were a band of rebels who were hiding to avoid execution and eventually there was enough civil unrest that the people turned on the Evil Jester but he had called upon some sort of demonic evil magic and the rebel forces were destroyed
and then after years of wandering and sharing his tale to all who would listen, our hero returns to his home kingdom only to find it abandoned and in a state of ruin, and he asks a fair maiden in a blue gown what had become of The Music and she explained the music had been dead for a long, long time
and now, knowing that everything he had ever stood for was destroyed, our lonely hero, now old and weary, returned to the band of outcast he’d befriended, where they sang bittersweet songs of the forgotten and drank whisky and rye until death came and gently lead their weary souls to where they could merrily sing once more
i was incredibly let down to learn this was not the authorial intent