Perfect post is perfect

Reblogging again to prove the same point. Thanks D&D for absolutely nothing

One Kiss To Seal It

Daenerys x Jon | Rating: M | A Song of Ice and Fire | 5,5 k

@salty-wench (also tagging her jonerys sideblog @airfilledwithsweetness) and I did another take on Shakespear’s Romeo & Juliet!! It’s a bit easier to understand, but no less dramatic. ❤️

The Stranger’s Kiss by Indiron

“… I promise you, she will be singing to the Stranger, begging for his kiss.”

When Cersei utters these words, she intends them as an ominous threat. She is far from imagining the symbolical context and meaning that a song and a kiss hold for Sansa is a radically different one, which we hope this piece bearing our art project’s name has conveyed.

Just gonna pimp my published works here. Not for profit but sending a message of hope and above all characters that you'll root for.

Check it out if you're so inclined. After all, it's a FREE BOOK ❤

“All Daenerys wanted back was the big house with the red door, the lemon tree outside her window, the childhood she had never known.”

Happy Birthday, my dear @varaemilaje!

Coming Home

As night fell over the choppy waters and the further they sailed out, the chillier the air became. Daenerys pulled her night cloak about her shoulders trying to ward off the cold that had seeped into her bones. She had told Jon that he’d needed his rest but as she pulled her hand from his and stood to leave, it was at once the last thing she wanted to do and also the only thing she could do.

As his deep, soulful eyes had bore into her own and his lips spoke the words, “How about, My Queen?” she could scarcely draw air into her lungs.

She had not been able to get Tyrion’s words out of her head. He had told her that Jon was in love with her and at the time she had scoffed and rolled her eyes, but could it be possible that her trusted hand was right?

She’d told Jon that she had grown used to him, the King in the North, but she knew in her heart of hearts that it was much more than that. She must have missed the moment that he took up residence in her heart and gave way to these feelings to which she was so unaccustomed.

She had never felt thus before; this swell of feeling deep within her soul. It was as if baby dragons had taken roost in her chest and their tiny wings beat against her ribs until her heart threatened to burst into flames and that was just when she thought about him.

When she was in the same room with him, as she was earlier, it was much worse than that. As it were, it was all she could do not to bend down and kiss each one of the jagged scars that marred his otherwise perfect flesh.

Jon had dismissed Ser Davos’ claims that he’d taken a knife to the heart, but the evidence was there for her own eyes to see, just as the white walkers were when she’d gone beyond the wall.

Viserion. Her precious baby, named after her brother, Viserys. She hadn’t been sad when the gods had taken brother. But her child? Her heart pained anew at the realization that he was gone. She felt as if a piece of her soul had been ripped from her when she watched her child fall from the sky, plunging into the icy depths below. And she couldn’t regret going, not really; not when so much was at stake.

And at the time, Jon’s very life was at stake and right now she could not have fathomed anything different than going with her gut when the raven had delivered the news that they were trapped on a block of ice by a horde of white walkers with the Night King bearing down on them. She had done the only thing she could have. She had gone to save the man she loved.

Was that truly what this was?

She had not felt this with Drogo. Theirs was a different kind of love, a love that was hard won and carved out of something rough and made to be beautiful.

But this with Jon? Was this what falling in love felt like? Her girlish heart still beat strong in her chest and hoped it to be true. What girl didn’t want a man falling at her feet? And though she had asked him to bend the knee, now she wasn’t sure she could let him kneel without falling to her own knees before him and declaring herself to be his.

This was not how she, Daenerys Stormborn, was supposed to be feeling. But here she was.

Her mind and thoughts awhirl, she retreated to her chambers. It was late and cold and the day had been long. She needed sleep to plan her next move; their next move. Maybe the morning sun rising would help shed some light on her scattered thoughts.

She tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before her mind quieted. But just as she was about to close her eyes and try to shut out the day, her reverie was interrupted by a light knock on her door. It was so late and at once, she knew it could only be one person. Jon Snow. Her heart in her throat, she got up from her bed and slipped her night cloak back over her shoulders and went to open the door, her suspicions proving correct. He stood there, his furs thrown about his shoulders and his eyes piercing her own as if gauging if his presence was welcome. She smiled softly at him, because what else could she do with him regarding her so. What else could she do but answer the call of her own heart?

She didn’t even have time to form words on her lips before his own were pressed to hers, his tongue begging entrance. A soft sigh slipped from her lips as she returned his kiss and she knew, without even understanding why, that she had just come home.

Jonerys scenography ➤ Water.

So…we’re supposed to believe that this woman sitting here, who hated having the fighting pits, who didn’t like the bloodshed and the violence for sport, who thought it was barbaric, suddenly went nuts and killed innocent people? That’s what we’re supposed to believe??

i literally wanna take kit and emilia and wrap them up in blankets, sit them on my couch surrounded by soft pillows and hold them forever

“There are many times when we’re planning a season that you kind of have to avoid giving the audience exactly what they want because things start to become predictable…” Dave Benioff

Honestly fuck this storytelling style. 

Fuck this style of storytelling that puts authorial masturbation over a satisfying conclusion to a story. Fuck this obsession with “swerves” and “subverting expectations.” 

Fuck this mentality that you have to outsmart the audience in order to make a good product. 

Fuck the idea that “predictable” is automatically boring. Fuck the idea that people who have been paying attention to long-running story arcs should be punished for giving a shit and expecting a cohesive conclusion to a long running story. 

Fuck this idea that disappointing endings are okay if they’re “unexpected.” Fuck this auteur mentality where writers have to prove that they’re the cleverest boys in the whole wide world. 

Tell a goddamned story; nobody tunes in for twists. 

Also, check out what George R.R. Martin himself said:

“The fans use to come up with theories; lots of them are just speculative but some of them are in the right way. Before the Internet, one reader could guess the ending you wanna do for your novel, but the other 10.000 wouldn’t know anything and they would be surprised. However, now, those 10.000 people use the Internet and read the right theories. They say: “Oh God, the butler did it!”, to use an example of a mystery novel. Then, you think: “I have to change the ending! The maiden would be the criminal!” To my mind that way is a disaster because if you are doing well you work, the books are full of clues that point to the butler doing it and help you to figure up the butler did it, but if you change the ending to point the maiden, the clues make no sense anymore; they are wrong or are lies, and I am not a liar.”

*drops mic*

Perfect post is perfect