WAR MAKES MONSTERS OF US ALL
FEAT. JAIME LANNISTER. VARYS. BERIC DONDARRION. ROBB STARK. SAMWELL TARLY. TYRION LANNISTER. MARON GREYJOY. VISERYS TARGARYEN. BRYNDEN TULLY. GENDRY. VICTARION GREYJOY. GRENN.
IT IS DONE !!!
find my new asoiaf multi over here. with that this blog will now be an archive and all future interactions will happen over on the multi. a proper self promo will happen once there is some ic interactions on the new blog. go follow, munchkins!
is2g I’m gonna open a bottle of champagne when that multi is done. I hate icons. with a passion. pray for me that i get this done before season 8 airs.
ugly mobile psa that the next ic post will wait a while now while I’ll start working on an asoiaf multimuse. there will be 12 muses on the blog including Maron, Jaime, Gendry, and Robb. setting it up will take a while including icons so bear with me, folks.
remember: I do RP on discord so there’s where most of my ic interactions will happen for a while.
my whole dash: freaking out about the trailer
meanwhile my stupid ass, starting a re-read from book 1 onwards, because the muses going on the multi are all over the place and scattered through all the books: game of thrones? I don’t know her
bold what applies + tag mutuals to do the same in a new post !
arms crossed on chest / crossing legs / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / karate chops / stiffening of shoulders / tense posture / curling of lip / baring of teeth
hand-to-face gestures / head tilted / stroking chin / peering over glasses / taking glasses off — cleaning / putting earpiece of glasses in mouth / pipe smoker gestures / putting hand to bridge of nose / pursed lips, knitted brows
arms crossed / sideways glance / touching or rubbing nose / rubbing eyes / hands resting on weapon / brows raising / lips pressing into a thin line / strict, unwavering eye contact / wrinkling of nose
hands behind back / hands on lapels of coat / steepled hands / baring teeth in a grin / rolling shoulders / tipping head back but maintaining eye contact / chest puffed up / shoulders back / arms folded just above navel / wide eyes / standing akimbo
insecurity & anxiety.
chewing pen or pencil / rubbing thumb over opposite thumb / biting fingernails / hands in pockets / elbow bent/closed gestures / clearing throat / “whew” sound / picking or pinching flesh / fidgeting in chair / hand covering mouth whilst speaking / poor eye contact / tugging at pants whilst seated / jingling money in pockets / tugging at ear / perspiring hands / playing with hair / swaying / playing with pointer/marker/cane / smacking lips / sighing / rocking on balls of feet / flexing or cracking fingers sporadically
short breaths / “tsk” sounds / tightly-clenched hands / fist-like gestures / pointing index finger / rubbing hand through hair / rubbing back of neck / snarling / revealing teeth/grimacing / sharp-eyed glowers w/ notable tension in brow / shoulders back, head up — defensive posturing / clenching of jaw/grinding teeth / nostrils flaring / heavy exhales
thesellsword . [ bronn ]
how cute. bronn leans against the column of the grand hall beside him, tilting his head curiously. he listens, intrigued by his reasoning – before he SNORTS. “aye, and it’d be one of me not looking so dandy like i do tonight.” bronn used to be a secret agent; he knows how to change himself. so tonight he actually looks normal – hair cut and coiffed, clean shaven, in a suit. it’s not his usual look by a long shot, not anymore, but he’ll buzz his head later and make sure to get out his best fishnet shirt to feel more alive.
“i’m chuffed that ye think there’s more to me than tha’.” not many people see HIM behind the mask, and now that shae is dead… he feels more alone. the only thing he knows how to do well is kill, and this is the life he chose. but he supposes jaime understands in a way, after being a war hero. or maybe he doesn’t. “are we doing more tonight than standing around in monkey suits?” he asks, glancing out to the gathering crowds. he wonders what jaime will think of him when he puts his full posh on. it should be fun.
CHUFFED, IS IT? Jaime’s half expected the paid thug to be rather unhappy with this subtle little intrusion into his personal life, counting on Bronn quite enjoying that brooding-loner-schtick he occasionally threw at everyone’s faces. cue Jaime thus mildly surprised at the exact opposite happening right now. especially considering that while he is sure there is more to that murdering edgelord, he still couldn’t say what that is exactly. and he finds himself far too curious to find out.
“we might additionally eat canapés. that’s it.” someone hand him a bottle of champagne and then allow him to hang himself on his silk tie, thank you very much. the true horror of Jaime’s life, perhaps, is the undeniable fact that he feels much more comfortable in a warzone, than he does at a party. small talk and smarts will forever give him much darker nightmares than roadside bombs and lost limbs. and he unwittingly rubs the part of his arm where flesh flows into metal. “how much would I have to pay you to murder every single person in this room so we can call it a night?” hah, killer humour. someone just shovel him his early grave already.
ircnreaver . [ balon greyjoy ]
The Lion of Lannister saw through the Reaver - he knew that he was not welcome at the capital but he’d come at the summoning of his ‘King’ in hopes to petition for the return of his last son. “Perhaps that is what makes us so different Ser ; you know not of the pain that comes with the loss of your children. Especially when my Rodrik was twice the warrior you ever will be.” Balon motioned his fingers to the sword on his belt. “And you shall never be half the warrior that I am. Yet here you style yourself as if you are the false Warrior god himself. The Drowned Lord versus the Warrior - what a tale that would tell aye?”
“PERHAPS HE WOULD HAVE BEEN had he been allowed to grow a little older than he did.” there was no bad jape buried in those words, no cruel little mockery. the notion of losing one of his children filled Jaime with unspeakable dread, and he would not mock a man who had not lost one, but two of his sons. I would go mad with grief, he figured. and the next moment wondered if he truly would if only it were Joffrey who died. a terrible thought, really. “actually, I style myself as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, which, incidentally, I am. and I’d imagine that tale to be very brief, given that any drowned thing usually is already quite dead.” he smiled. “why exactly are you in King’s Landing, Lord Balon?”
coldhonovr . [ wyllas ]
Try as he might to not stand there, mouth gaping, his eyes widen just a little: 4000 dragons. An inconceivable amount, and Wyllas can only imagine what he would do if he won. ❝ 4000 Dragons could buy me a lifetime’s supply of meat pies! ❞ He looks to Jaime, rag in hand as a half-smile tugs at his cheeks – while he wouldn’t allude to being tired, he certainly wouldn’t mind being paid for his services in food. His lips pull back to his show his teeth as Jaime’s hand sits heavy on his shoulder, the prospect of being done for the day being one he readily accepts, and all too eager is he to leave the tourney grounds.
❝ Even your drinks are Southron, ❞ He quips, tossing his rag onto a nearby table. ❝ We don’t really drink wine in the North. Can’t really afford it and there’re no vineyards that’ll grow that far north.❞ Getting used to their pompous, overblown normalities was harder than he initially thought, and often he found himself yearning for the simpler things. It had taken him even longer to get used to the colours; reds and yellows with flecks of green here and there – it all hurt his eyes. He never truly knew what to look at it, and despite his insistence he hated the Capital, Wyllas could confidently say he didn’t hate it as much, if only because of Jaime. The fact he was interested in what the he had to say wasn’t something he expected. He was a squire now, not a lord; his purpose was simply meant to serve and be trained, and he had assumed he wouldn’t be of any real importance to anyone in the Capital… If anything it helped to ease the chronic ache in his chest for home.
❝ I doubt you want to hear about Northern tourneys, they’re not as nice as yours, ❞ As most things were when comparing anything to the Capital. Wyllas steps along behind Jaime, careful not to bump into anyone. ❝ But, if anything, I think our tourneys are more exciting. ❞ Wyllas snickers, poking fun at their Southroness yet again. They made it far too easy, but he wouldn’t lie if he ever got the chance to talk favourably of the North. ❝ Good fighters can make a tourney, but that’s only half the excitement if the crowd is practically dead. ❞
“A DRINK FROM THE SOUTH IS SOUTHRON, what a remarkable enlightenment.” o, it sometimes is too easy to poke fun at the boy. strangely enough, Jaime’s words ring in good favour, drenched in nothing but amicable humour. the image of the brooding, cold Northmen slowly begins to melt
speaking of places men rarely ventured to, finding a tavern indeed is quite out of the ordinary for Jaime Lannister. rarely does he drink at all, and whenever he does, he prefers the company of those he deems worthy of his company. those people usually do not include the likes of Ser Meryns or Ser Osmunds, nor would they include Wyllas of House Dustin, and yet Jaime moves through the narrow streets with the surety of a man who regularly visits the town’s taverns and pubs. it is for Wyllas’ sake, more than his own. to show the boy the places the knights and squires of the city frequent, in case he ever wants to disappear for a cup or two once his duties are done and he has grown tired of Jaime’s company.
the looks the pair thus receives when they enter the one inn usually packed to the brim with shining armour and longswords, is one of utter surprise. and soon whispers jump from table to table, of the Kingslayer settling down for a drink in a tavern. if Jaime heard any such whispers, he ignores them remarkably well. “in case you haven’t noticed before, practically everybody in the Capital indeed is already dead. most of them up here,” Jaime brazenly taps his temple with an index finger. “some days I believe even the half-starved figures clogging the streets of Fleabottom are more lively than your average spectator of a tourney. and alas, we unfortunately lack the good fighters, too.” a decanter and two cups are put on the table before them. “if you want something to eat, feel free to order. unless the Southron food is too inexplicably Southron for you as well.”
coerulus . [ brienne ]
Everything was gray. Above them a light rain was falling, but few drops made it through the canopy to the forest floor. The sun was hidden behind a thick layer of clouds that made day look like dusk. Brienne was flanked by two golden lions, one at her hip and one riding along by her side. Why was he here? She couldn’t bear to look at him or Oathkeeper, but looking at him would’ve been worse. She’d somehow managed to craft a believable lie- why was he here, why did he agree to come with me?- but it was a constant struggle to keep the guilt out of her eyes. She kept her hood down and her head bowed, and sat slumped in the saddle. It will be over soon, she told herself, but that did nothing to ease the hole being gnawed in her stomach.
Half a dozen times she tried to open her mouth and tell him the truth, but the words stuck in her throat. She could still see Podrick dangling from the noose, his legs twitching. If she confessed he was lost, but if not… she couldn’t think of that or the walls she had built up around herself would crumble to pieces. Instead she tried to listen to the rain and think of nothing as they rode along as slowly as she dared.
WHY WAS HE HERE, INDEED. like yesterday, he remembered the cold fright chased through his bones when a bare foot had met the first light snowfall coming down in the Riverlands. he remembered talks about Edmure, remembered the sweet, but average face of Jeyne Westerling, remembered the grim look of Ser Ilyn, and talks of direwolves, and the letter. help me. save me. I need you now as I have never needed you before. I love you. I love you. I love you. come at once. and he remembered it crumbling away to coal and dust in the open fire. a call for help like many he had received before, ever her knight in shining armour since they had been children
so buried in his own thoughts had he been, that he had barely noticed the deafening silence that had accompanied them along the road for the majority of the day. snow was still falling, covering the ground like a thick blanket that seemed to render everything even quieter than it already was. and green eyes then curiously glimpsed at Brienne for the first time in what felt like hours. why was he here. “you know,” after all that silence, his voice sounded loud like the sudden beat of a massive drum, and Jaime almost jumped at it himself. he wasn’t made for this. that brooding stillness drove his mind to places he’d rather not venture to. “I don’t mean to nag, but if we went any slower, I could have my horse shoed while riding. you said we had no time to lose.”
So many vows… they make you swear and swear. Defend the king. Obey the king. Keep his secrets. Do his bidding. Your life for his. But obey your father. Love your sister. Protect the innocent. Defend the weak. Respect the gods. Obey the laws. It’s too much. No matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow or the other.
HE REMEMBERED A LITTLE GIRL. running around the courtyard of Winterfell with pigtails and muddied breeches, tousled and loud, waving a stick like a longsword forged to be driven through the hearts of whatever monsters she had been told were lurking beyond the Wall. perhaps it surprised himself the most that he remembered her at all; head in the clouds back in the day, Jaime had never cared much for those he hadn’t loved, or deemed worthy of his attention, and yet he remembered her. how far Ned Stark’s little girl had come. barely taller, still feisty, but now driven with a determination Jaime could not put a finger on, but found it impressed him greatly. and he briefly wondered whether it was chance or fate that had driven one of the Stark girls he had sworn to protect right back into his arms.
“and why would I do that?” Cersei wasn’t here. Cersei, who probably would have enjoyed seeing him hurt her; with her voice still ringing in his ears from so many years ago, demanding he’d punish Arya Stark for setting her direwolf on Joffrey. he had been incapable to hurt her then, he felt no desire to do it now.
“I cannot say I’m in the habit of killing young girls, unless they try to kill me first. so unless that is your intention, I’d believe it safe to say that the two of us will come out of this little chance meeting quite unharmed. doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”
SOME WORDS SIMPLY LEFT A LITTLE STING IN THE HEART. it was a miniscule lesson Jaime had learned a long time ago, starting with the first flits of rage, the first disappointments, and the first cold, hard truths a person could ever learn in life. another such truth was that some of those lessons were universal. and that they were better learned by all those who had ever faced cruelty and betrayal. he hadn’t known that young girls like her were required to learn that lesson so very soon, though. the courtyard of Winterfell filled up with snow at a pace so rapid, one could hardly keep up. born and raised in the south, Jaime couldn’t recall ever having seen that much snow, or feel such a bitter cold. flakes caught in the greying gold on his head, warm breath coming out in thick puffs before their faces, and yet the world seemed deceivingly tranquil. as if they could truly afford to stand here and talk.
about lessons, and perceptions. about old knights learning more and more about the young ladies they had sworn fealty to. and most of what he learned impressed and frightened him at the same time. you should have cared for her sooner, Lannister. perhaps you could have spared her one of those faces.
a low hum for but a moment remained his sole reply; a quiet way of accepting a simple truth the way it was, and yet being unhappy with it at the same time. who would have thought that, one day, the face he wore for the world was friendlier than the one he wore for those he loved. “to have those two faces be the same would be true bliss, I’d imagine.” he smiled down at her, a touch of amusement glinting in those emerald eyes of his. “it would also be a privilege that is denied to most of us. the true question is, however, what face do you feel more comfortable with?”
what if I turned Gendry’s blog into an asoiaf multimuse tho
thesellsword . [ bronn ]
he hates that jaime is so nonchalant about his life – but then again, why does he care? bronn purses his lips together before letting out a loud sigh. idiot. jaime lannister was truly an idiot… in more ways that one. he quirks his brow in curiosity. “yeah, well, would’ve been here sooner, if ye didn’ run off.” bronn grumbles, noting his smile.
“… i couldn’t stay without ye there.” he admits after a moment, expression serious. then, he softens. “ye owe me a castle, after all.” he jokes. he rests his elbows on his knees before resting back against a tree. they should rest; there’s a long road ahead. “… i don’t want to be where you aren’t.” did he say that out loud?
“AND IF I HADN’T RUN OFF I most likely would have found myself with Gregor Clegane’s monstrous hand closed around my throat very, very soon.” he has been wondering ever since his
Bronn. right here, right now, unconditionally as it seems. and the quiet little confession perhaps shouldn’t hit him out of the blue as much as it does. nor should it leave a comfortable, soothing tingle in his gut. and yet here they are. strangely open and honest. perhaps facing certain death does that to a man. and Jaime reaches out with the sound left, clasps the back of Bronn’s neck in a fashion hanging between amicable and loving, almost. “well, I fear now that you’ve marked yourself a traitor to the throne, too, you will have no other choice but be wherever I am.” and the smile on his lips turns mirthless that moment. thoughtful, and sad, and so unfamiliar, nobody in this world had ever seen such a look on Jaime’s face before. “I’m sorry.”
you know who deserves more love and attention? Grenn.
thanks for coming to my ted talk.
as you peeps may have noticed, my online times currently are here and there and all over the place, due to me not being able to properly schedule my day to day. which is driving me insane, tbh. some weeks I’m online three, maybe four days a week, sometimes just one day, or not at all. to take some pressure off of me and still be somewhat “active” around here, I’ve decided that I’m gonna throw everything into a queue from now on, that will post twice or thrice a day. I’ll fill the queue up whenever I can. I’m gonna do this throughout all my GoT blogs, so if you’re wondering where your reply went
bear with me until my life has a semblence of a routine again and I can actually focus on writing again. sorry folks!
apparently we’re gonna watch GoT entirely from the start before season 8 airs. I’m living the life. also stay tuned for a nice queue to start today. just sayin’
A DARKER SHADE OF MAGIC / A GATHERING OF SHADOWS by v. e. schwab sentence meme.
- ❛ I’d rather die on an adventure than live standing still. ❜
- ❛ After all, you can kill people, but you cannot kill magic. Not truly. ❜
- ❛ Impossible. What a useless word, in a world with magic. ❜
- ❛ Everyone thinks I have a death wish, you know? But I don’t want to die – dying is easy. No, I want to live, but getting close to death is the only way to feel alive. And once you do, it makes you realize that everything you were actually doing before wasn’t actually living. It was just making do. Call me crazy, but I think we do the best living when the stakes are high. ❜
- ❛ You have two faces. One you wear for the world at large, and the one you wear for those you love. ❜
- ❛ Everyone’s immortal until they’re not. ❜
- ❛ It is as it is. It cannot be undone. So please, be grateful, and be done with it. ❜
- ❛ The thing about freedom? It doesn’t come naturally. Almost no one has it handed to them. I’m free because I fought for it. ❜
- ❛ I know you can do this. I know you can hear me. Stay with me. Listen to my voice. ❜
- ❛ Maybe you just got a taste of what it really means to be alive. You almost died. So now you know what it feels like to live. To fear for that life. To fight for it. And once you know, well, there’s no going back. ❜
- ❛ You made a mistake. Everybody makes them. Even me. I’ve made many. It’s only fair that you made one. ❜
- ❛ I did only what I had to do. If I could have given my life for yours, I would have. ❜
- ❛ A kiss for luck. Not that I need it. ❜
- ❛ I know. I know what and who you are. What will you do? Kill me? ❜
- ❛ Why am I the only one in this fucking world to be held accountable for my actions? ❜
- ❛ Aren’t you afraid of dying? ❜
- ❛ I’m sorry. For whatever happened to you. For whoever hurt you so deeply that you see things like friends and fondness as weapons instead of shields. ❜
- ❛ You know so little of war. Battles may be fought from the outside in, but wars are won from the inside out. ❜
- ❛ Between the two of us, we’ll tear the whole world down. ❜
- ❛ I am going to cut that smile off your face. ❜
- ❛ It hurts. More than dying ever did. There are days when I feel like I deserve this. ❜
- ❛ Death doesn’t scare me. Not nearly as much as the idea of wasting a perfectly good life in fear of it. ❜
- ❛ You’re always so eager to slash and stab, why couldn’t you have stabbed him. ❜
- ❛ Which is it, huh? You’re angry at me, or worried about me, or happy to see me? Because I can’t keep up. ❜
- ❛ Wouldn’t it be amazing, if we got away with it? ❜
Tuning in from the temporary internet-less-ness (yes, that’s a word) to establish the new canon that it’s Lannister-man custom that when you betray your family and have been threatened with murder by your sister, you grow a full beard and turn to a very dangerous, but much more fulfilling life.
In other words, that season 8 look of Jaime in the plain northern armour is giving me life. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.
THEON ( reekcd )
Theon was no idiot, no matter what may have been said of him. The tone of Ser Jaime Lannister’s voice was not lost on him. But Theon Greyjoy was not so easily offended. At least, he didn’t like to show it if he was. So his smile only grew, and he laughed.
“And I have never been called a Kingslayer.”
He reached out to pat the older man’s shoulder.
“But I expect we do have some things in
common. Surely plenty o’ ladies desire you
He had it good at Winterfell in some ways, certainly. But he never quite belonged. The brothels and taverns, though… there he fit right in. That was the sort of dog’s life he spoke of.
“Have you ventured out to Winter Town?”
“which, I assume, is due to you never having slain a king before.” he was quite the funny lad, wasn’t he? a little too bold perhaps for someone in his position, but Jaime fortunately paid little attention to PROPRIETY when the reward for it was entertainment. a different kind, he supposed, to what the young Greyjoy usually would seek in the few private hours he had to spend in a day.
Winter Town. ladies. Jaime couldn’t help that smile still lingering on his lips.
“once so far, merely to fetch my brother, as older siblings do. I’m sure he has already PERFECTLY accommodated himself in various establishments in town. it has ever been more his interest, than mine.” they thus did not have that in common. not while Jaime cared for one woman only