#coldcastles

[stolenfates]

How’s your portrayal? yk i stan you and your writing, i love how much passion you put into every character, regardless of fandom or origins, etc. always a pleasure to have you on my dash ✨ 🙏🏾 🥰

beep beep how’s my portrayal?

Skye, the absolute hell we went through in the asoiaf fandom only brought us closer together, and while it was such a shitty time, I wouldn't trade it for the world. The characters you create are utterly amazing and so well through out, they always leave me utterly speechless. I wish I could craft OCs half as well as you. Love having you on my dash, as well, and just being able to call you a friend!

[stolenfates]

when did they first kill? did they kill pre-apocalypse or post? who was it, someone memorable or not? do they remember it, is it blurry or do they not care to remember? does it impact how they kill now? / for joel miller

* 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐏𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 . . . from @coldcastles

Joel had no prior experience taking the life of another prior to the outbreak. His first kill was his infected neighbor, Jimmy Cooper, who had pursued Joel after an altercation and broke through the sliding glass door of Joel's home. He was forced to shoot the man in the head to keep himself and his daughter safe. As it was his first time taking someone's life, the kill has stuck with Joel, especially during the first few years following the outbreak. As the years go on, and Joel becomes more hardened to the world around him, Jimmy fades from his mind ──── just another poor son of a bitch that got infected with no hope of survival.

[seasdragon]

@coldcastles asked: [ wristgrab ] in the middle of a heated moment, daemon pins laena's wrists above their head

Passion   always   run   wild   through   them.   He   is   fire   and   blood   personified   and   Laena,   for   all   of   her   talk   of   fire   in   her   blood,   she   is   also   salt   and   sea   and   sometimes,   they   clash.   It's   not   often.   Their   energies   often   match   one   another   but   now,   away   from   home   and   desiring   to   be   close   to   Driftmark   and   her   family,   they   had   argued,   she   is   thankful   the   girls   are   elsewhere,   playing   and   being   young.   Laena   doesn't   think   Daemon   plays   or   fights   fair,   even   when   it   is   a   domestic   thing,   as   his   hands   trap   her   own   wrist   above   her   head   and   her   body   pressed   against   the   wall   and   she   can   feel   him,   hard   and   firm   against   her.  

And   for   a   moment,   between   heavy   breaths   and   passionate   silences,   her   lilac   eyes   land   on   her   husband,   the   same   rage   and   fire   on   his   as   she   is   sure   that   can   be   seen   in   her   own.   "You   will   have   to   do   better   than   that   to   shut   me   up,   husband."   And   it   is   spoken   as   a   challenge,   her   body   playfighting   to   break   free   from   his   grasp,   body   trying   to   distance   itself   from   the   wall   and   inevitably,   colliding   with   his   and   Laena   feels   him   through   the   Pentoshi   fabric   of   layers   he   wears   there.   One   can   never   say   laena   was   meek   or   not   forward.   He   might   want   to   win   the   fight   but   for   that,   she   will   have   to   be   tired   and   keeping   her   mouth   occupied,   so   she   challenges   him   to   continue   on.   "What   will   you   do   now?"

[sigilwars]

@coldcastles asked:

“say please.” from THEO TYRELL to AERA TARGARYEN

A   Princess   would   never   say   please   or   beg,   specially   not   to   a   man   who   just   only   now   has   risen   to   his   station.   She   would   beg   her   brothers   and   taunt   them   with   the   temptations   and   desires   of   their   house   but   never   a   stranger   and   yet,   his   hand   upon   her   throat,   not   hurting   but   giving   the   right   amount   of   pleasure   makes   Aera   squirm   and   moan   in   desire,   her   legs   pressing   together   to   give   herself   some   release,   and   hoping   he   would   hear   the   wetness   that   drip   from   her   legs   oh   so   easily   as   he   traps   her.   "I   could   feed   you   to   my   dragon   for   this."   And   yet,   she   finds   herself   rising   her   body   ,arching   her   back   upward   so   bare   breast   brush   against   his   chest   and   then   her   lips,   brushing   over   the   line   of   his   jaw,   biting,   nibbling,   hoping   to   leave   her   own   marks   on   his   body.

  "Please.   Forget   my   title   and   yours   and   fuck   me   as   a   man   will   a   woman.   I   did   not   guide   you   to   my   rooms   for   the   sake   of   pleasantries."   Oh   no.   If   she   is   to   wed   a   man,   she   is   going   to   test   said   man's   prowess   in   bed.   For   her,   three   qualities   a   man   need   to   have   for   her   to   take   her   hand   in   marriage;   skilled   in   politics,   skilled   in   chivalry,   skilled   in   the   room.   He   seem   to   thrive   on   all   the   first   two   considering   he   is   from   the   Reach,   and   now,   she   is   testing   the   third   skill.   He   did   not   seem   to   care   about   her   title   or   the   fact   this   would   ruin   her   reputation.  

For   there   was   no   reputation   to   ruin,   she   was   a   bastard   with   a   legitimized   last   name,   and   many   sang   about   her   as   they   did   her   sister   Rhaenys.   She   would   rather   be   prickled   by   a   knight   of   thorned   roses   than   anything   else.   So   she   repeat   her   motion   and   now   bite   on   his   lip,   pulling,   perhaps   until   he   can   feel   a   pang   of   pain   in   turn.   "Please.   Or   do   you   need   to   taste   how   much   I   desire   you?"

[sigilwars]

@coldcastles asked:

[steady.] QUENTON QOHERYS holds MYRA TULLY'S trembling hands down gently against the sheets.

The   wedding   night   is   something   she   has   prepared   herself   for.   Reading   books   and   asking   other   women   of   how   to   make   it   good   for   her   husband.   Her   Septa   had   said   many   things,   unpleasant   as   they   were   and   her   thirst   for   knowledge   led   her   to   visit   a   pleasure   house   in   the   depth   of   night   and   ask   for   more   advice,   surely   there   was   a   reason   why   many   men   sought   them,   surely.   And   yet,   when   the   moment   came,   when   she   found   herself   bare   and   his   body   pressing   against   her   own,   she   found   herself   trembling.   It   was   a   kind   gesture   of   Quenton   to   hold   her   hands,   from   where   she   had   them,   covering   her   breast   to   rest   on   each   side   of   her   head.  

As   gentle   as   the   gesture   was,   there   was   a   rush   of   heat   through   her   body   that   enjoyed   the   feeling   of   being   pressed   by   him,   on   their   bed.   "Surely   you   had   more.   .   .larger women."   She   is   petite,   her   breast   are   nice,   she   thinks,   tender   and   firm,   and   even   now,   as   they   press   against   his   chest,   firm   and   hard   but   still,   she   feels   small   compared   to   him.   Feeling   him   through   the   remains   of   his   breeches   made   her   quiver,   surely,   he   would   not   fit,   would   he?   She   felt   her   legs   squeeze   in   thought,   and   the   friction   brought   a   rush   of   pleasure.   Myra   is   thankful   then,   that   he   called   the   tradition   of   the   consummation   off,   so   no   lords   or   ladies   would   witness   it,   though   she   is   certain   the   guards   outside   the   door   would   say   a   word   to   her   father   if   nothing   was   consummated   that   night.  

"I   like   feeling   you   like   this,   lord   husband.   But   we   do   have   a   duty.   And   I   fear   the   guards   would   need   to   hear   it   being   done."   She   blushes,   red   as   her   hair   at   the   thought.   She   had   heard   women   in   pleasure   before   and   said   they   must   be   insane   for   being   so   loud   but   Gods,   she   wants   to   be   that   loud,   men   seemed   to   like   it   and   she   hopes   he   would   too.   "I   read   about   something   women   can   do   with   their   mouths   to   their   husbands.   .   .can   I   try   it?"   And   she   nibbles   her   lower   lip   in   sheer   nervousness,   but   her   hips   rise   against   his   own   again   to   show   him   she   does   want   that.

[d0reah]

@coldcastles asked: "I don’t want to think, I just want to feel." from JON SNOW

"Nexum   est   solum   nostrum.The   vow   is   ours   alone,   Jon   Snow.   But   to   feel   pleasure,   you   must   think.   So   if   you   must,   focus   only   on   me,   and   the   pleasure   we   can   bring   to   one   another."   An   absent   lover   of   the   mind   is   no   lover   at   all.   She   understands   his   plea,   his   face   and   eyes   tell   a   story   far   beyond   what   she   can   understand.   They   say   he   had   been   through   the   dead   and   came   back.   Her   God   of   Death   is   not   cruel   but   another   lover   of   the   Love   Goddess,   and   for   such,   she   can   be   that   for   him,   but   never   just   a   senseless   distraction.   She   guides   his   hand   between   her   legs,   removing   his   gloves   and   feeling   his   hands,   colder   than   most,   for   he   carries   the   North   in   his   blood   and   then lets   him   feel   her.  

Doreah   had   already   prepared   herself   to   make   it   easier   to   feel   her,   warm   and   inviting.   Her   other   hand   drags   the   man   closer,   titles   dropped   when   they   are   together,   for   they   are   just   a   man   and   a   woman   now.   "Focus   and   think   of   what   you   can   give   me.   What   I   want,   and   what   you   want."   She   encourages   his   movement,   as   she   feels   fingers   drag   over   her   slit   and   then,   inviting   him   further,   her   mouth   gape   open   as   fingers   deepen   inside   her,   the   delight   is   evident   in   her   face,   and   how   her   body   responds   to   his   movements.   "Tell   me,   what   do   you   want   for   me?   Think   of   that.   To   claim   my   body   until   I   cannot   walk?   To   spread   your   seed   inside   me?   For   me   to   beg   for   it?"   She   whispers   against   the   roughness   of   his   cheek,   drawing   her   body   closer   to   his   own.  

Legs   wrapping   around   his   waist   and   so,   distance   is   non   existent   for   the   two   of   them.   Her   breast   bounce   with   her   own   movements,   as   she   grinds   herself   against   his   hand.   "I   would,   you   know.   I   beg   sweetly,   they   told   me   once.   You   would   make   a   goddess   beg   and   desire   only   you."   And   perhaps   he   is   different   than   other   men,   but   most   men?   They   desire   such   a   thing.   And   Doreah   would   give   it   to   him   if   he   wanted.   "I   want   it   too.   To   feel   you   deep   inside   me,   rough   and   hard,   like   those   winters   of   yours."

[reinerose]

@coldcastles asked: "Lift your dress" (MARGAERY does, DROGO ties a piece of his cloak around her leg) "keep me close to your thighs. The thought will warm us both."

There   are   traditions   in   the   Reach.   He   must   had   heard   it,   or   maybe   heard   it   from   others.   Perhaps   the   Dothraki   share   it   too,   as   it   is   not   unusual   to   cultures   share   similar   traditions   when   men   go   to   war.   But   it   is   a   nice   gesture,   now   in   her   homeland,   the   fresh   rosy   air   of   the   Reach   against   her   skin   is   the   most   welcome   of   it   all,   specially   as   she   lift   her   dress   and   he   wraps   the   cloak   around   her   thigh,   his   hands   are   warm   and   calloused   and   familiar   to   her   by   now.   Her   Khal   and   husband,   going   to   war   in   what   seemed   to   be   an   alliance   that   would   benefit   them   both,   she   had   found   herself   caring   for   the   man.  

Her   body   welcomed   him   and   despite   the   language   still   being   a   barrier,   one   that   would   break   day   by   day   with   effort   from   both,   he   was   now   doing   what   he   promised;   help   her   retake   the   crown   before   Daenerys   showed   with   her   dragons.   To   go   against   the   Lannister   host.   There   is   no   babe   in   her   belly   still,   and   she   is   aware   that   is   what   she   promised   him.   A   son,   she   hopes   he   can   see   she   is   hoping   for   it.   She   would   not   mind   a   babe,   now   that   she   is   so   close   to   get   everything   she   desired,   and   vengeance   for   her   family.

  "Here   it   is   the   women   who   give   favors   to   their   men."   She   jest,   but   men   do   the   same   to   their   women   when   married   or   betroded.   Still,   her   own   cloth   is   wrapped   around   his   hair   with   one   of   his   many   bells,   shaped   as   a   flower   for   him   to   carry   her   into   battle   and   protect   him.   She   let   her   hands   rest   on   each   side   of   his   head,   as   the   dress   pools   back   down   and   she   leans   her   body   down   so   their   faces   touches.   "Be   safe.   Return   to   me."   Margaery   whispers   in   the   Dothraki   tongue   she   been   practising.

[sigilwars]

@coldcastles asked: ❛ you were foolish to think you could hide this from me. ❜ perhaps AEGON I TARGARYEN to AERA TARGARYEN

"I   hid   nothing.   I   simply   withheld   the   information   until   I   was   able   to   have   it   all   in   one   piece.   I   know   how   you   hate   half-assed   things."   She   is   not   lying.   Nor   is   he,   for   that   matter.   Aera   had   kept   the   information   close   to   her   chest,   only   Rhaenys   had   known   and   that   was   likely   because   they   were   both   planning   this,   as   the   ones   who   occupied   the   world   they   now   live   in   with   alliances.   Aera   sits   casually   on   the   council   table,   legs   swing   one   way   and   the   other   as   she   looks   amused   at   the   stern   look   she   had   earned   from   her   older   brother.   He   was   always   like   this,   perhaps   more   now   with   the   weight   of   a   crown   on   his   head.   "And   if   you   know   this,   it's   because   Rhaenys   figure   you   would   not   react   as   you   are   now.   Guess   she   was   wrong."

  A   roll   of   her   eyes,   as   any   younger   sister   would.   A   scoff   follows   as   she   is   aware   she   needs   to   explain   herself   to   her   brother   now.   "Marriages   are   the   best   way   to   seal   alliances   and   we   cannot   keep   marrying   only   House   Velaryon   or   ourselves.   And   you   had   taken   two   wives   already,   even   when   Rhaenys   would   had   been   a   wonderful   wife   elsewhere.   You   were   greedy,   brother.   And   now   the   responsibility   falls   on   me."   She   does   jest   on   that   matter.   She   thinks   it   was   always   Rhaenys   plan   to   get   Aegon   to   marry   her   and   take   two   wives,   not   uncommon   in   their   family   or   by   Valyrian   tradition   but   still,   odd   by   Westerosi   standards.   She   pulls   from   the   place   on   her   dress   upper   corset   the   letters   she   received   of   her   intention.  

"House   Tyrell,   House   Hightower   and   House   Redwyne   from   the   Reach   are   sending   suitors.   House   Celtigar   and   Qoarys   too,   per   Valyrian   tradition   and   blood."   And   the   last   one   is   stacked   on   top   of   them   all.   "Lastly,   Kin   to   Princess   Argella.   But   do   I   need   to   remind   you   mother   lives,   it   is   her   who   should   give   approval."   But   blue   lavender   look   with   humor   at   her   half-brother,   he   would   likely   have   it   that   only   he,   the   King   would   approve   of   her   match.