So this was totally supposed to be characters’ reactions to Jon and Dany being in love but it suddenly got really long and really angsty and I don’t know why. So I apologize in advance. I’m sorry.
Not taken from one specific prompt; it’s been on my list for a while.
Hopefully this makes up for not posting anything yesterday lol
Tyrion had hoped that the King and the Queen would get along.
He did not, however, think that Jon would persuade Dany to take leave of all of her senses and leave for the North with her dragons. He might not have allowed Jon to come, if that had been the case.
They were in love with each other. Of course they were. Neither of them would ever admit it but every time they were in the same room they always ended up eye fucking. He’d learned about eye fucking when he was very young; when couples could undress each other with their eyes-but he’d never seen any two people perfect it like Dany and Jon.
Then again, he supposed they both flared towards the dramatic once in a while.
I suppose he just looks at you longingly like he’s hoping for a successful military alliance. She’d rolled her eyes and turned back to the fire but he’d seen the way her eyes sparkled. Gods, she had it bad for him.
A political marriage, perhaps. Good for both of their kingdoms and good for them. He would have brought it up, if Jon hadn’t left. It took every ounce of persuasion he had in him to keep her from going after him; she was always a bit impulsive, a bit too eager to throw herself into dangerous situations…but it was all he could do to stop her, to remind her how valuable she was. There were other Starks but no other Targaryens; who would be left behind to break the wheel if she was gone?
As soon as the raven arrived he’d known he would lose her. He’d tried to hide it from her but she found it, of course; she’d read it, back rigid and eyes flashing back and forth across the paper, and then she’d turned and gone upstairs-coming back down a few minutes later in her winter coat. She looked like an angel. But even angels could die. Even their love stories could fail.
He’d pleaded with her, but she’d barely been listening. Her mind had been made up and she was already beyond the Wall with the man she loved. He knew how hard it was to sit back and do nothing when the people you loved were in trouble-but she wouldn’t listen. She displayed the same tenacity that had gotten her so far on so little, she and the dragons had flown off, and he hadn’t been able to stop her. He couldn’t help wondering if it was the last time he’d see her.
In that moment he couldn’t help but hate Jon Snow for having such pretty hair, or for being such a decent man. And he hated himself for not realizing sooner that what he thought was just a crush had turned into all consuming love.
They were so young. Too young for this. He’d seen young lovers, fearless and ready to take on the world, only to die in each other’s arms. And dead heroes were no good to anyone. There was no one in his life that he could think about dying for-maybe his brother, or the Queen, but he didn’t want to sleep with them. His lovers were shifting faces; many of them he barely remembered. By now he knew that reckless displays of love and bravery rarely paid off.
He should have planned better.
But they were in love and there was no stopping it. All he could do was wait and deal with whatever fallout came with it. Because there would be fallout; there always was, when it came to matters of the heart.
The first time Davos realized that the King in the North and the Queen in the South were in love, they’d both nearly died.
For a while Davos hadn’t been sure he could make it work. The two monarchs barely tolerated each other. But then, slowly but surely, they’d warmed to each other. And now they were…something else. Now they loved each other in a way he’d seen very few people ever love each other-not just for political convenience.
Jon was stubborn, of course, but Davos knew these things-he’d seen enough people fall in love to know when one felt the first stirrings of desire. And he’d known that Jon was in trouble the second they’d walked into the throne room and seen the Dragon Queen on her stone throne, exotically beautiful. Any man would have fallen in love with her instantly-and even Jon wasn’t immune to her charms.
Davos had prepared for every other eventuality, up to and including a battle at sea should they become prisoners on Dragonstone. He hadn’t been prepared for her, for Jon to look at her the way he did.
Even then, they were already lost. I’ve noticed you looking at her good heart.
Jon had stubbornly refused to talk about her. He changed the subject ever time Davos brought her up, every time he tried to coerce him to focus. And they were falling for each other, hard. He could tell, in the way their glares were softened at the edges with curiosity, tempered by kindness. When Jon escorted her to her place at the long wooden table for their first meal together and the way they’d tried not to meet each other’s eyes. The one time Dany had dropped one of her carved dragon figurines in the war room and he’d immediately bent down to grab it for her, and how their hands had touched for just a little longer than necessary.
He’d never thought that he would like the Dragon Queen either; she was too foreign, and she’d taken the castle that he’d come to think of as Stannis’s and make it her own. But he found that he did; she may have been the most powerful woman in the world, but she never brought it up. She never exhibited her power unnecessarily. And the people who followed her…they followed her because of who she was, not because of her name. She was kind in a way that Stannis had never been-but her spine was iron, and unyielding when necessary. She and Jon made a good match; ice and fire, neither one smothering the other but flourishing as equals.
It had broken his heart when Jon had volunteered to go on the wight hunt and he’d seen the look on the Queen’s face, the way she’d tried to call him back. Don’t do it, you blithering idiot. Don’t you see how much she wants you to stay? Don’t you know how much you don’t want to lose her?
Which was, he suspected, why he’d gone in the first place.
But he’d never expected, even in his wildest dreams, for the Queen to come after them with all three of her dragons…and return with two. He hadn’t had to ask what happened; they were all shell shocked and Daenerys looked devastated. But she didn’t lock herself in her room; she waited outside for days, weathering the snow and cold and squinting into the middle distance as if she could somehow draw Jon back to him.
And inexplicably, she did.
She never left his side in the days he was unconscious; she brought in a chair and sat next to him, not speaking, not crying-only changing his bandages when the occasion required it and sleeping in odd bursts of two or three hours with her head on the edge of the bed. She looked younger in sleep, more innocent and vulnerable. They both did.
It made him want to protect them, to spirit them far away to somewhere they could live out the happy ending they deserved. But they were heroes, and he knew there was a good chance their love story would never get a happy ending. But he would do his damnedest to try.
There was love in their eyes, whenever they looked at each other. Pure, unadulterated love. And he knew they were lucky to have found it, if only for such a short time.
Missandei realized that her Queen’s…preoccupation with Jon Snow wasn’t just a passing fancy when she didn’t want to talk about him during their morning routine (a bath and braids).
When Dany had known Daario, she’d talked about him every morning after she slept with him. He was light and funny; she didn’t take him too seriously and Missandei had always listened with interest when she talked about their nightly hijinks. But she never did, with Jon. In fact she didn’t tell Missandei that they were even having sex until they reached Winterfell (Missandei pretended to be surprised; everyone had known since the first time it happened). And soon she stopped wanting to talk about Jon altogether, as if she wanted to keep all of the sensations to herself. She and Dany had always been the best of friends; sometimes it felt strange sharing the Queen with someone else. But Missandei had always liked Jon; he was like Grey Worm, strong but caring, overcoming adversity after adversity. So they didn’t talk about their crushes; sometimes they would exchange glances, now and then, to convey all that there was to convey. But mostly Missandei just made sure she kept the sheets washed, in case the Queen ever invited a visitor back to her room.
Once she asked her what love felt like, what she felt when she looked at Grey Worm. Missandei hadn’t known what to say, or how to explain the whirlwind of feelings-the sadness, the love, the urge to protect him from anything and everything that could do him harm…in the end the only thing she could say was “the way you look at Jon.” And somehow Dany seemed to understand.
She noticed the direwolf pin before anyone else did; Dany wore it on her shoulder, tucked under the collar of her shirt where it wasn’t noticeable. But there it was, bright and shiny as if (and she suspected this was the case) Jon had it made for her especially.
It felt like a promise-a dangerous promise, but a promise just the same. A promise that one day, when this was all over, they would have a future together.
Emm random soft holsom hc. After finals are over they planned to go on a date but fell asleep cuddled together in the attic instead
it’s a bit different from the original ask whoops hope u
ft. both parties pining bc i lov to fix all that #suffering
love my boys!
like 750 (sorry its so short! im studying for finals atm and i just,, do not
have time to write full fics sorry)
casual anxiety, nothing too bad
“You know, Ransy-” Holster starts, cutting off midsentence. Both
of them are half asleep, laying on their backs in a pile of blankets and
pillows . It’s too late at night for either of them to be coherent, and Justin
finds he doesn’t care.
LESTRADE: So the whole thing was a fake. SHERLOCK: Yes. LESTRADE: Looked so promising. SHERLOCK: Facile. MOLLY: Why would someone go to all that trouble? SHERLOCK (offscreen): Why indeed, John?
Fun fact: When Clue was first released movie theaters played different versions so everyone was fighting about what the ending really was. My mom said that people kept on trying to reason their ending and how it made the most sense… Then it was released on dvd and everyone was finally able to see the TRUE ENDING
“GATISS: One of my favorite things is that amazing Orson Welles film, ‘F for Fake’ […] it’s fantastic, it’s all about the historyof con tricks.
And in the beginning, he says, ‘I absolutely swear to you for the next ninety minutes everything I tell you will be absolute and literal truth.’
And then right towards the end of the film, it spirals into this extraordinary story about this con man that you can’t believe – and then he just sort of checks his watch and says, […] ‘My time is up, the last ten minutes I’ve been lying my head off!’ [laughs]
It’s brilliant … it’s really what we sort of do in miniature. — Mark Gatiss, on being asked about plot secrets.
“If we pull this off, it will make television history.” “It’s kind of groundbreaking, they’ve done something that’s never been done before”
“An eminent scientist gets caught up in a highly damaging and compromising lie.”
“A doctor starts an affair with enigmatic stranger and begins to suspect more is at play”
“However, nothing is ever as it appears, and when she receives an unexpected proposition from an enigmatic stranger, Yvonne is shocked by the passion he awakens in her. But gradually she begins to realise that there is much more to her lover than meets the eye, and she could be playing a very dangerous game indeed.”
like seriously though (I know those are real people and real names, but… just so funny :D)
The dialogue included: “Can be wonderful, can be terrifying.” “What did you say?” “Something that drives you in and crushes you to nothing.” “We are going to have different versions of the same story.” “Do you want to hear the wildest story of them all?” “You’re starting to intrigue me.” “It’s all just one big performance.” “We are going to be busy, you and I”
One more miracle!
“Of course it’s not a trick, it’s a plan.”
and for all you Johnlockers and any other interested conspiracists, there you go:
To be honest, you can all fuck off. None of you gave a flying fuck about either Viserion or Rhaegal until Viserion was killed. All your attention was headed towards Drogon, Drogon and only Drogon, who is actually the wildest, most temperamental and most difficult to control of them all and has caused more problems due to Daenerys’ negligence and incompetence to train and control him than the other two combined. Not only that, but after all the trouble he caused it was the other two dragons who were punished while Drogon was free to wander around and cause even more trouble. You all are going “aw, no, poor dragonling!” when you didn’t even care about him, only Drogon. But who can blame you, after all, even the Khaleesi doesn’t give a crap for them, except for her precious Drogon.
I have died and gone to Jonerys Heaven, which apparently, is a cave filled with Obsidian.
My heart stopped ❤️
They are more perfect than I can ever imagine, in my wildest dreams, in all the fanfic incarnations, seeing them on screen…. with the soft music playing and how they looked at each other, everything else fades away. It’s just the two of them….
Jon Snow is in love Ladies and Gentleman. The King in the North is in love…. with the Love of his Life…
With nowhere else to go during a stormy winter night, MC decides to take refuge at the long-abandoned castle in the heart of the forest. However, the rumors speak of an hideous flesh-eating beast that inhabits the castle. They say the creature is shrouded in so much darkness that the light of the sun never reaches the forest. Despite that, MC braves herself and takes a step inside. What she doesn’t expect is meeting a cold pair of eyes, not from a monster, but from a man whose heart has long turned into stone.
“You do know that trespassers won’t be forgiven, don’t you?”
Ethan had admired Mark for years. It had meant the entire world to him as to where they’d gone together. When he’d first met him at PAX, he would’ve never even imagined in his wildest dreams all the things that had happened between them. Yet, as a duo or in a larger group, they had gone to conventions, even on tour. Sometimes, Ethan would lie awake at night and just mull over the history of the pair from the very beginning. It had started as something so simple, something that many people now did for him; simply watching the content of a creator. How had he gotten so, so lucky? He always felt so constantly special, because of all the thousands of people that Mark had met and still met to that day, he was only one who had gotten past the title of “fan” and up to “friend”. Where was that title now? It was as though Mark was a different person, as though he had gone insane overnight. Ethan might not have imagined that they’d be friends, but the concept of them being enemies in a fatal situation had not once crossed his mind even in dreams, in imagination, in every area of his mind. Yet here he was, held against the wall by a knife to his throat and the unforgiving stare of two deep brown eyes. Ethan wasn’t sure if it was his vision playing tricks, but he could’ve told anyone that they were black if someone asked him. Too bad for him, he’d never get the chance to describe them. “Mark..” He sputtered out, his voice cracking partially through the name. If it was even possible, the knife pressed tighter into his skin, as if the name itself had angered him. He sneered slightly, and for a moment Ethan wondered if perhaps it maybe had been the name itself. Why would that be, though? It just didn’t make sense. After all, what else would he call him? “You’re.. you’re hur-hurting me,” “Good.” was the only response that slipped through Mark’s lips, a growl underlying his tone. Ethan’s ears rang with the reply and he whimpered out once again, making another weak effort to push him away, but only worsening the situation. “Perhaps you deserve to be hurt, Ethan.” “W-Why?” Ethan questioned, his mind racing with instinct, thoughts cluttered into it. “What have I e-ever done?” “You’re an annoyance,” He spat out. Ethan froze below him, the word suddenly the only thing in his mind, everything else vanishing. Had he even had thoughts in the first place? “An inconvenience, Ethan. You’re needy and you aren’t special,” Ethan didn’t even respond, every single word running through his mind over and over. Annoying. Inconvenient. Needy. Normal. Everything he hated being, everything he tried so hard not to be, and all that effort was utterly worthless.. perhaps, just maybe, he was as well? Something in the back of his mind screamed at him that it wasn’t Mark, that Mark was his friend, that Mark wouldn’t treat him like this. Ethan just diminished the thought, the concept of it stupid to him. Who else was it if not Mark? Of course it was Mark, he was right there. “It’s all you’ve ever been, Ethan.” He spoke again after the pause, and Ethan’s eyes snapped back up to meet the opposing gaze with a jump, and he had to be sure now that they were black. They had to be. M-Maybe Mark had been possessed? No, of course not.. Demons weren’t real, of course not. Ethan, stop being stupid. You just don’t want to accept it. Were.. Were those even his thoughts? They didn’t feel like his thoughts. He blinked suddenly, his surroundings returning to him. Had he just.. passed out? No, of course not, he must’ve just zoned out for a bit, right? R-Right.. “It’s all you will ever be,” The whisper came again, seemingly in his mind but it also echoed off the walls. Ethan’s vision spun and he.. was that an outline, around Mark? Red and blue, red and blue. The colours of flashing lights on emergency vehicles. Were his ears ringing with the sound of sirens? Maybe it was an ambulance. Was he dying? Maybe his ears were just ringing, he had no idea anymore. The world around him didn’t seem real, and for all he knew, maybe it wasn’t. What was that feeling on his neck? It seemed.. wet. A liquid? Had he spilled a drink earlier? It was so loud around him, and he could detail everything within his line of vision, but at the same time, he could see nothing. It was spreading, dripping down his neck, seeming to fall from the ceiling and down the walls, too. Or was the red on the wall just a part of the now definite outline around Mark? Something clicked in his mind. A name, a visual, and so many things seemed to set in place, and instinctively he began to struggle. Dark. He knew this. He was one of the people who had edited the exact outline. He was one of the people who put the ringing in the background of Dark’s voice. This wasn’t Mark, this was Dark, but Ethan hadn’t realized until it was too little, too late. “You are nothing, Ethan Nestor.“
Under the cut are 28 gifs of Scott Eastwood in Taylor Swift’s music video, Wildest Dreams. Every gif in this pack is 245x140, and all of them were made by me. Please like or reblog if you plan to use them. Don’t edit these gifs in any way unless you’ve asked for permission and I’ve given it, and don’t include in any gif hunts. Enjoy!
I feel like I haven't told you that I love your writing recently. But I do. And I was hoping to leave a prompt based off of something you just reblogged. Tim Drake shy and not speaking and Tim drake denying knowing the Wayne's and like just all the angst (but can I have a somewhat happy ending?) please and thank you.
Thank you so much! It’s always wonderful to hear that my writing is enjoyed. : ) I hope you enjoy the fic based on that post.
I want to send a quick thank you to @redrobin-detective for posting such an inspiring answer to their ask.
If your curious you can find the original ask and answer posted by Redrobin-Detective Here
Tim was the quite child. The steady one. The rock. He stayed
quiet, sipping his coffee or working on his computer while his siblings made
all the noise. The racket. The clatter. Drove Bruce up a wall so that finally
when the man retreated, he did so to the cave where he knew he could work in
silence beside Tim.
And they did. For hours, not a word passed between them, Tim’s
silence mingling with Bruce’s in a way that was comforting if not
companionable. It wasn’t that Tim didn’t talk, or that he wasn’t chatty. He
could be loud and as wild as the rest of them, especially if Damian were
involved. The boy had a way of turning Tim into the wildest of them all. No, he
was silent because it was where he fit.
He knew his place. He’d been brought into the family not because
he was chosen, but because he forced his way in. Even if it hadn’t been as
forceful as Damian’s entrance, Tim had not been welcome. Not as Robin at least.
Not until he’d proved himself. It was his work that brought him in, and his
work that kept him.
He was here to do a job. To keep Bruce alive. To keep his
family alive. That job was best done on his own. Tim preferred it that way. He
didn’t bother anyone, didn’t rock the boat, and it was fine. He was there for
When Bruce broke the silence, Tim knew it wasn’t for small
talk. It was always business between the two. Especially in the cave. Tim
corrected his adopted Father’s math and moved back to his work. Bruce did the
The next time the silence was broken, was in the form of the
hum of the elevator preceding the stomping of small feet and a now familiar tongue
click of distain.
The conversation between father and son was brief. Enough to
establish that Bruce had forgotten, again,
that he was to teach Damian a new hand to hand move and that the boy was intent
on either learning now or rescheduling. The business was taken care of quickly
with a promise of the lesson being moved to the morrow and a request to get
ready for patrol.
The word had Tim glancing at the clock and realizing how
late it had gotten. He kept spare uniforms at the manor so getting ready for
patrol wasn’t a problem, he only regretted having to cut off working, and his
train of thought. The movement and exercise would do him good. He’d allowed
himself to stay seated for too long.
During patrol, he went off on his own. He was used to it, had
been for a long time. Since before Dick had given his role as Robin to Damian.
Bruce had trusted him enough to let him do things by himself, even now the man
required little information from him besides his route and if any of their
cases might cross over.
It was his own stupid lack of attention that got him hurt.
He’d been distracted, thinking on the project he’d left at the cave. On Damian’s
willingness to demand and remind his father of forgotten appointments. Tim had
long since stopped reminding Bruce of the things he forgot, stopped vying for
his attention. It was no longer his to command, never was.
Sitting herself up on the counter, she peeled back the can lid on her can of Fruit Cocktail- the little cherries were her favorite. “My god, I don’t remember these being this good when I was a kid.” She muttered, shoving a big bite into her mouth. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a can of fruit, but this had to be heavenly. “What?! I have a shit ton of random cravings, and for some reason, an extremely chilled can of fruit cocktail does it for me!” She huffed, shoving another bite into her mouth and chewing in a slightly exaggerated fashion and feeling very protective of her small, but growing bump that seemed to make her hungry in a way she’d never remembered feeling.
Who is your favourite character from the secret history?
this NOT easy at all, since the thing i appreciate the most along with the aesthetic in that novel, is totally the complex nature of the characters - who i all love for something.
probably my “most favorite” would be charles. pre-murder charles tho, the charming, intelligent, charismatic, open-hearted boy with a scandalous secret - his relationship with camilla, which is the one and only and most important thing of his whole life. and that’s why i didn’t like really much his turning into this drunk, violent, anxious and lost human being. not that i didn’t appreciate his darkened soul; the thing i absolutely despised about all this was his behavior regarding camilla, his abusive and violent behavior towards the same twin sister he lived for and that he feared so to even hurt a little, touching her wound a few months earlier, while he was trying to help her. and moreover their ending, divided, alone, pretending not to live for each other anymore. that’s a thing i deeply hated about the final development of them both. i totally do not found it natural or even ok for them to live apart from each other.
i also loved camilla’s character. her being apparently so ethereal, and fragile, and kind, and quiet and then finding out during the bacchanal she was the first, the most furious, the wildest, the more lascivious of them all - discovering her incestuous relationship with her brother, discovering her uncanny love for henry. her violent desires.. she was really a revelation to me along all the novel and i’m really found of those contradictions in her soul. but again, without charles i think she lost her particular charm, the most important part of herself, so i totally do not get this development decision for them both.
francis is the one i can relate the most to tbh. he’s a lost soul too, but in a far less loud way. you can see it in everything he does and in everything he is, but never hear it from his mouth. on the contrary, he would always be the most perfect on the outside, elegant and charming, but easy going; intelligent and with a dark side too, but always trying to bright things up nevertheless. the one with a really desperate life background, but not in a way other people would notice easily. on the outside his life appears golden, his demons lies under luxurious carpets, in the twisted glimmering of black diamonds. his relationship with his mum, who refuses to see who actually her son really is to the point of making up even his flaws, even his imperfections - a drug addicted yes, gay never. there is huge tragedy in francis existence, made even more tragical to the fact that everyone seems to believe he has no reason to call it a tragedy. no reason to complain. no reason for wanting to die. and i think donna tartt here got really well the terrible reality of this condition, shared by so many people, and being dealt with in silence - the feeling of not being in right, even allowed, to suffer. why are you depressed? you are faking it obviously, you have no reason to be, your life is perfect, you are making a big deal about stupid matters.. that’s the most terrible thing someone could ever experience in their lives, not being allowed to suffer, to not being ok, to be themselves. and that’s who francis is. someone who’s never allowed to be truly himself, not in his sexuality, not in his virtues and not even in his flaws. and i love him realy much for that, because i know how it feels like.
and here we are with henry. for henry i had really contradictory feelings. i hated him when i started reading tsh. then somewhere in the middle i realized the first impression i always give to others and that many of my friends tried for years to explain to me, was actually the same he’s portrayed with. and in that moment, after having wondered why, i eventually started to truly understand him. because henry might seem the villain of the story, but he is not. he’s the real victim. henry is a cursed soul. he’s a genius, with the deepest intelligence, and because of that he’s always being awfully bored, awfully misunderstood and awfully alone. because everyone with a mind like that is always alone in his genius. and that’s a doom, something that makes you feel dead inside, something that sucks away every possibility of joy in your life. so obviously henry’s quest was to free himself from this terrible condition. how? finding someone more than him, desperately wishing to have found someone more than him, someone to look up to. and for him, this marvelous figure is julian. the eccentric, wise, charismatic ancient greek professor, finally someone to refresh his soul with, finally someone more intelligent, to entrust himself to. and when this most beloved and worshiped figure suggests you the most amazing and interesting and golden and honored of ways of distraction, summoning a god, being a god’s favorite, you obviously say yes. and when you do kill twice for an higher purpose, being someone like henry, someone bored to death by the inadequacy of his own existence if compared to his brain, then you feel finally free. finally your life has a meaning, finally the era you are trapped in opens its gates and you can finally be who you really are, starting to feel and to love and to like life for the first time. so his behavior in the all matter to me sounds like the most justified. when all the others did it out of fear of jail or as richard out of fear of staying in his poor condition forever, henry did what he did out of a tragic need of more. and that’s why in the end i did, deeply, madly, understood him. that’s why he’s the real victim. after having fought so fiercely to free himself, he found out it was all a lie. julian is not the higher soul he fancied, he’s a coward, using beautiful, ancient ideas to charm others, to be worshiped and nothing more. but at the same time, being so found of this idea of julian, to the point of not being able to stand the thought of having disappointed him at all. and then the suicide, the last attempt of redemption, maybe, but above all things, the final escape from the chains of his life, once again around his wrists. henry is the real victim. and really a beautiful soul, no matter what.
the fact that finn/poe and steve/bucky have become so popular that the outside world has actually picked up on them…….its fucking surreal to me. like i know they’ll never happen but i keep thinking that if the media just talks about them enough then maybe