|
Joramun posted:"For this award I'd like to thank the academy, my parents, Charmin..." "And I couldn't have done it without our prop designer, who managed the monumental feat of combining the stark green of baby shat with the dry crumbling of old man death bed poo poo berries."
|
#
?
Dec 21, 2012 23:45
|
|
|
|
| # ? Jun 4, 2024 20:55 |
|
|
May we see this fabled chapter 22?
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2012 03:12
|
|
|
In It For The Tank posted:He's a nice guy really. http://niceguysofwesteros.tumblr.com/
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2012 03:27
|
|
|
Somebody link the game of bones google doc so I don't have to look through five hundred pages of bad thread.
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2012 04:21
|
|
|
That tumbler is farts, Jaquen was the best part of that season.
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2012 04:47
|
|
|
Thulsa Doom posted:That tumbler is farts, Jaquen was the best part of that season. Um Margaery-san's cone dress, thanks for exposing yourself, baka gaijin.
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2012 10:39
|
|
|
Horse-making GBS threads.  Fore-shadowing Dany's dusky shower in the Dothraki sea.
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2012 16:39
|
|
|
rejutka posted:Horse-making GBS threads. The most grievous error in the translation to the screen is that Tywin's horse poo poo on the floor before walking into the throne room, when in the books it clearly poo poo on the floor after walking into the court. 
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2012 20:14
|
|
|
run DNC posted:Somebody link the game of bones google doc so I don't have to look through five hundred pages of bad thread. Weakling. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Hxep6WBJrizoi4VklxvLBoVpmWePCO9wlhnfsLMJzvY/edit?pli=1
|
|
#
?
Dec 22, 2012 22:55
|
|
|
thornghost posted:Chapter 22 is complete and posted to the Google Doc! Done in 45 minutes and I'm sure it is a masterpiece. Chapter one is like half done. I'll finish it tomorrow, but I am wondering if it's been edited to flow with Chapter 2? run DNC posted:Somebody link the game of bones google doc so I don't have to look through five hundred pages of bad thread. It's in the OP Stay Safe fucked around with this message at 06:13 on Dec 23, 2012 |
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 06:10
|
|
|
[accidental double post]
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 06:10
|
|
|
Dead Man Posting posted:[accidental double post] Look at you outstripping noted author, blogger and gourmand George Raymond Richard Martin. [accidentally]
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 06:15
|
|
|
Welp, here's my aborted Chapter 12 attempt (oy), while I get at 17: --------------------------- Chapter 12 - Sensa Sensa felt the delicate sunlight caress her fine, shapely features as it shone through her great chamber windows. She was nude, and only wished that the warm rays could compare to Jeffrey's touch and their wild caresses from before. Oh well, she thought. Mother says we're not going anywhere for a while, and though the wedding will have to wait, it shouldn't be too long. Not so long as we can keep meeting. Maybe next time with even less talking and no shooing off the chaperones. There was not much to be done, surprisingly, between listening to mother drone on about relations and trades and dumb Ardi. Besides that, there was food, though she could not handle so much and still consider her figure, keeping it well-shaped for Jeff, and possibly that other man.... It was then that someone knocked at her door. She covered up quickly and went to see one of the king's men, a friend to The Pound, waiting outside. He offered her a roll of parchment, bowed, and left. Inside was a scratchy, amusingly awkward note that only told her to 'comm meet me down by the chambars, my room -P'. It wasn't a command, she knew. The Pound was more well-behaved than that. And still, she could see him, that look in his eyes that knew even his polite requests should be obeyed like orders. She shivered a little, though not from the breeze. Her patch of wolf-hair tingled and stood out, and she knew she would go. It wasn't hard to wander about the castle to her own whims, which made seeing the other man much easier than the annoyingly public king. Still, she wanted them both so much. That wasn't too much to ask, was it? To absorb all the passion both sent her way? No, of course not. She had chosen a blue dress, one with a few surreptitious slits here and there, strategically placed. It caught the light, and usually caught a few men's glances as well. She let the occasional one stare, but not for long. She was soon in front of the simple door to Sender's small chamber. She raised her hand to gently tap, hanging on that moment where she knew she could turn around, loving all the little bumps raising on her skin. All of a sudden, the door swung inward, and the scent of that great, big man came wafting out. It was not unpleasant, and truth be told, brought on the daring little bumps even more. The Pound stared out at her, his face a mixture of surprise and wonder. He looked her down, then up. It almost seemed as though he would burst, either with excitement or something else, she did not know. “I. Sensa, please. Please.” He motioned into the room, which was sizable for a servant, but still seemed so small for such a great man. She stepped in and gasped. Seated by the wall, between the bed, the side table and armour and manly things, sat two very different looking women, both wrapped in loose shawls of red. They had a large, covered basket between them. One had tresses and tresses of dark, burgundy hair and pale, haunting eyes. The other had stark, shapely facial features, and eyes and brows that spoke of some place very far away. Each had a swell to her breast that Sensa could see made them very full indeed. Each wore striking eye-paint and a spice in the air to match. She kept her composure and turned to Sendor, who was crowded against her (pressing his body close). “Am I interrupting something? You did not mention anything about guests.” “Apologies, my... my lady. They will not be here long, though we have waited some time for you. These women are not for me, they are for you.” He squeezed past her, to stand, towering over all three of them. “That is, I had an idea. Something I learned in my time across the seas, far to the east. Did you use what I taught you? With our king?” “Oh. Oh, yes,” she was instantly swimming in the memory again. “Definitely.” “That is good to hear,” said The Pound, licking his lips. “Well, I had to see you. See you learn more, I mean. These good ladies are going to teach you something new. I have enjoyed the acts they and their sisters perform before, and I've told Jeffr- our king about it, but he has never had the chance to partake. Do you want to learn something new?” Sensa lightly placed her hands at her sides and gave a small nod down and to the side, assenting to the women. “Oh yes. I can only imagine what the king would say, ah, good Pound.” Even standing there above them, scarred as he was, so plainly dressed, he could probably have taken them all at once, and not a one would have complained. Maybe there would be time still... But no, she still had Jeffrey to think of. Sunlight streaming across his big arms, Sendor shifted his sizable bed around until it was about in the middle. “Now,” he started, “the red one knows our language, she's Rahz. The other one, she won't speak, but she can understand us well enough, is Agag.” He cleared his throat and stepped to the side. It was getting warmer in the chamber, and, Sensa suspected, possibly moreso for The Pound, stern as he wanted to seem. ---------------------------
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 07:12
|
|
|
It's an xmas.... miracle definitely isn't the word I'm looking for here. Hmm.
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 16:04
|
|
|
IRQ posted:It's an xmas.... miracle definitely isn't the word I'm looking for here. Hmm. No one says that miracles are always good.
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 16:17
|
|
|
run DNC posted:Somebody link the game of bones google doc so I don't have to look through five hundred pages of bad thread. If you look behind, you will be lost.
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 16:27
|
|
|
IRQ posted:It's an xmas.... miracle definitely isn't the word I'm looking for here. Hmm. Don't take the Christ out of Christmas you misanthrope. Would you write xio instead of Daario? No you would not.
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 18:36
|
|
|
Sophia posted:Don't take the Christ out of Christmas you misanthrope. Daario is a Christ analogue. How did I not see this before? 
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 18:42
|
|
|
He has been sacrificed for Dany's sins.
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 18:57
|
|
|
Sophia posted:Don't take the Christ out of Christmas you misanthrope. This is a trick question right? Like that "you wouldn't download a car" commercial? And how dare you characterize misanthropy as bad anyway! This is the Bad Thread; I hate all of you! Well not Norris, she's p cool. gently caress the rest of y'all though.
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 21:39
|
|
|
17 incoming in like an hour or so. 18's been languoring, but should be done in time to be a Kwanzaa miracle.
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 21:46
|
|
|
Sophia posted:He has been sacrificed for Dany's shits Hey, you fuckers, if I'm not on in the next few days... Merry Christmas. Go get yourselves some shitdick-nog.
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 22:41
|
|
|
A Bad Thread Christmas, eh? Nothing like rousingly rousing renditions of such classics as "God Rest Ye Merry Wombmen", "Dany the Shitwoman", and "Jinglebells". And a Goon Project nearing completion is a Christmas miracle if I've ever seen one, especially when the next book in the original series is nowhere near halfway done despite chapters being pushed back into it for a decade.
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 23:04
|
|
|
Ho ho ho, I know! I know!
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 23:08
|
|
|
SOMETHING NEARS (almost done! i got free time enough now, 18 will round this poo poo out!) Are you ready for forced references and contrived poo poo, brothers?! ------------------------------ Chapter 17 - Ardi The road had been rough on them, especially Ardi, who wouldn't admit to missing all the comforts she usually spurned when riding with her family. Still, being out of the chill air in a carriage, the warmth of people all around her and eating better food than what Genden had brought would be worth more than gold. He had asked more about the Hogor and when she told him about the big, simple but friendly man, he nearly turned them around. “What use is that going to be to us? You're telling me that he's the key to finding who murdered the king, and he has the mind of a child? That's our only hope?” She had talked him down somewhat, saying that their Elder was a skilled man, wise enough to be able to get the answers they needed, wise enough to give them solid proof of what happened to the king that day. He would find a way, to be sure. Scrunching his face up in grudging acceptance—making him look so adorable—he let Ardi plan their way. By Gendy's estimate, they had made it more than two thirds of the way home. There were very few people out on the roads, worrying about harvest, muttering about bandits, though a few caravans let them tag along here and there. No one was going directly to Autumnfall though, and they were still trying to make haste. With Gendy and his tough appearance and the coin that Sensa had snuck them from mother (and Ardi's secreted Strike family seal), they had voyaged without any trouble. The place they were in now, however, was making her uneasy. They had entered the bordering swamplands on the way to the northern reaches. Usually she was asleep or riding with her father the few times they had come this far south, so she never really knew the area. It was dank; damp but cold, the moisture sucked all the cool air and held it in, hovering over the ground like a ghost. There were puddles everywhere, and she had heard tales of people and horses getting mired or caught in the spongy moss and muskeg that lay off to either side of the roads. Villages were few and far between, but she had planned ahead, and brave Genden had volunteered his hunting skills to some success when they needed to. He had bargained with traders once or twice, but not as well. Ardi felt like she could just hug him until he burst whenever he tried, though. He was looking less and less like a boy and more like a man. Maybe when all this was over, she could mention to mother how good and noble he was. Maybe... “Stop,” Genden said, pulling at his reigns. His spotted grey palfrey whickered and cantered listlessly. They were in a clear patch of road with a wood off to one side. There had been a few farmhouses a while back, but now nothing. Ardi strained to see into the dense mist around them, but after a few yards, everything met a thick wall, white as cream. Ardi's hand went to her short sword, attempting to duck her head between her cloak, for what good it would do. She would have felt much more scared without Gendy around to help her, and for that she gave thanks to the Virtuous. “What,” she whispered. “What is it.” “Don't know. It almost smells like smoke, but it's so damp.” He looked around. “There's nothing in the wood that I can see. Let's keep on.” He had a bow, which he awkwardly tried to ready as they moved. Ardi had begged him to let her take it, but he had claimed responsibility. He could make her so mad at times. And then he would stare with those deep, dark, brown pools of his, and she would care less and little. Still, he was a terrible shot. Might as well beat people with the thing. The horses had kept their calm and they were coming up a hill when a great, spare tree rose up out of the fog in front of them. Its trunk was massive, at least several yards around, the bark dark, dark brown. It marked a crossroads, if you could call it that. Here and there leaves clung for dear life to the branches and a few crows perched along it, eying them hungrily. Ardi half-expected to see a body hanging there to fit the atmosphere, but as they neared, it remained empty. Something caught Genden's eye, though, and he held up a hand. Ardi said nothing, gulped. Genden made his horse practically creep up closer toward the weathered signpost, then beyond to the thick, dark trunk. He gasped. “What is it?” Ardi asked, nudging her mare forward. “A sign. Or a message. Or something, I'm not sure. It's carved deep into the tree, but if the sun were out you could probably see it.” Ardi heard some bird-calls nearby, though they weren't from the crows surrounding the autumn tree. “There's arrows dug into it, but as a warning, I don't know? I don't like this.” He readied the bow and kicked at his horse's flanks. Ardi sighed and cantered over. Gendy was right, someone had cut a jagged message into the trunk, roughly spelling out: SLAIYERS RULE! For some reason, two arrows jutted out over the 'I' and the exclamation. “It looks like some local clan or something. Rowdy swamp boys, probably.” Genden had turned about, staring at the weathered sign next to the tree. “No, look, the arrows were shot clear through the boards here, and into the tree. These marks, too accurate for swamp people.” Ardi wanted to laugh at him, but decided to do it after they had moved on. She was ready to nudge her horse (and the worrywart) past the site, but Genden suddenly gasped. Arching her brow Ardi looked around, but even before she heard it, she felt the close, caressing swish of arrows slicing around her, through her cloak and purse and saddlebags, grazing at her calves. None came close to piercing her, strange enough. Rustling came from all around them, the crows startled, squawking into flight. Then they were upon the younglings. Vicious men in animal skins, dyed bright colours. They rushed from the bogs and 'skeg, screaming nonsense, yelling battle cries of 'gently caress you, trolls!' and 'Dumb rear end will learn ,' Genden tried to fend them off, managing to put an arrow through one leg at least, but before he could nock another, they swarmed him, pulled him down. Ardi lost sight of him in the tumult. Rough hands grasped Ardi as she drew her sword, slashing furiously at them, but meeting only air. They reached and grabbed, like cats batting at mice, until one got hold of her and tumbled her to the ground, knocking the wind out of her. She wheezed, lungs uncooperative, hoping that this wouldn't be the end. Instead, the bandits or whoever they were made confused sounds, spoke in riddles. Someone propped Ardi up and went to retrieve her horse, as they so did with Gendy, who looked rough, but mostly unharmed. A man dyed in reddish-pink colours was rambling at another man dyed red and black. Meanwhile, another man upended a flask of water over Ardi. “U O K?” he asked. His speech was rudimentary, but his eyes had a fierce intelligence. Ardi just stared back. “Ur not a troll I guess We won't slaiy u its ok, chill ur pill.” “They're not our enemies, lads,” said the one who she assumed was their leader. He was the only one with a recognizable crest, two white goats facing apart with a ring in the center, on a white field. Ardid couldn't remember the house it belonged to, try as she might. “Still, we have to be sure.” He stepped close to Genden, who had been stripped of his weapons and was held by two of the archers. Drawing a knife, he knelt before him and made one cut, up the front of his tunic. “No!” Ardi shouted, not caring what they would do. The nearby men didn't pay attention to her, for they were transfixed on Genden. The goatman took his two great, big hands and ripped the young man's clothes, then stumbled back, surprised. The rest of the strange men either whistled low or stayed reverently silent. Their leader, wide-eyed, looked over at Ardi. He gestured wildly. “Girl, look at that body!” He marched over to her, looked at the rest of his party. “Just look at that body!” “He works out!” shouted one of the men, clad in some swamp reptile. Ardi shuddered, but was ready to spit in the man's eye, if it was her last act. Instead of threatening her, he grabbed her armpits and hauled her up, then dusted her off as best he could, then pointed back to Gendy, abs glistening against the wet of the mist. He did look very presentable. Looking about her, Ardi carefully moved over to her friend. “We are sorry, young lady. We had reports of awful youths harassing the good peoples in the villages nearby as they only try to work or play. But one look at your friend... he bears a birthmark I have only seen once before, on the lord of Waterfall Basin. He is a friend to our comrades here in the north, and so should you be.” He adjusted his clothing, nodded at some others, who started to melt back to the white air. “Still, by the Vixen, only someone from a good and noble house could look like that!” Ardi was about to interrupt by saying that she knew some cousins that would prove otherwise, but nodded instead. The remaining few men stood Genden up and handed him a spare shirt and his reins. “No, I am terribly ashamed that we have offended you. You are not something awful like the callous, base sort we seek to defend against. Please, take this as a token of our peace.” He held out one large hand and started twisting at the ornate ring he wore until it pulled free. He took Ardi's hand, still dumbstruck, and dropped it in her palm. “We owe you a debt for our actions, as well. Send word to the Slaiyers whenever you shall need us, and I will see you properly aided.” He bowed deep to both of them. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, they vanished, the minor lord wandering away with an odd gait. Genden was still breathing heavily, taut muscles bunched up and ready for a fight. Ardi blinked once, twice. “What,” Genden began, “in the depths of hell, was that?” Ardi, still feeling the blood coursing through her, walked over with her white mare and put a hand on the boy's—no, young man's—chest. Before he could talk, she cupped his cheek in her hand, stood straight up and kissed him once on the lips, then again on the mouth. He recoiled a bit, then matched her mouth. He grasped her close, pushed her head to his shoulder and breathed out, nuzzling her. He started to say something else, but Ardi put a finger to his lips, then kissed him again, half-hugging him, half grasping at his close-cropped hair. Their horses whickered, now annoyed more than scared. “Shh,” Ardi said. “Nmmhmnnm,” said Genden. They parted and Ardi looked around, flushed. She took his head in both her hands and tousled his hair. “No more rest stops, unless we're in a large company, you big dummy.” Genden caught his breath and settled himself. “No sleep 'till Autumnfall,” he said, then mounted up. Ardi took the chance to give his hard rear a smack as he did so. She laughed, then got in the saddle, and they were off.
|
|
#
?
Dec 23, 2012 23:22
|
|
|
I had a dream the other day in which I realised one or both of the miller's wife's flayed children were Theon's Which was passing odd but I had just re-read aCoK
|
|
#
?
Dec 24, 2012 01:20
|
|
|
Sophia posted:He has been sacrificed for Dany's sins.
|
|
#
?
Dec 24, 2012 02:48
|
|
|
Joramun posted:Dany is the Westerosi Virgin Mary and Rhaego was its Jesus — their sins were so grave, he died for them before he was even born. "He had been dead for years". He died for their sins years before his conception. drat, that's one committed saviour.
|
|
#
?
Dec 24, 2012 14:06
|
|
|
Went ahead and got Chapter 17 dropped into the Google Doc. Now we wait on Chapter 18 and the stunning conclusion. That said, we need to get this edited into at least some kind of shape. If anyone wants to spend their Christmas fixing paragraphs, that would be amazing and also terrible for you and I will feel sad. But, we do need to get them in the standard single-spacing between paragraphs with a tab to begin the paragraph rather than the double spacing with no tabs that some chapters have. Also, if anyone actually wants to do some editing (Sophia), just get in there and fix things up. If we can get this thing on Amazon before A Memory of Light, I think that would be awwwwesome.
|
|
#
?
Dec 24, 2012 21:57
|
|
|
 It's a Filthy Christmas Miracle! (this is stupidly wordy, maybe break it to two chapters?) ------------------------------------------- Chapter 18 - Sensa Her loins ached from her remembrance of those recent forays with Jeffrey. If she wasn't too careful the excitement would cause her to burst, spill over, and collapse in exhaustion if she let it. For now, she thought as she gazed out from her chamber windows at the courtyards below, for now it would be sumptuous distraction from the tiresome business of her mother and late father and all the other so-called nobles at the Crossing. Unbidden, a memory of her father--and more importantly, of his sworn and loyal men--came to mind. A day not long ago during an unusually warm time that saw many big, strapping young lads come to prove themselves in the hunts. She could almost smell the roasting fires outside and the tang of salt and sweat from the Strike kitchens indoors as servants scurried to and fro with fresh game. It was to be a busy day and, just for the moment, Sensa had been left to her own while the returning hunting party saw to their washing up. She wandered close to one of the hallways leading to the stables and overheard a handful of knights and lords chattering away. Mostly their words were airy and full of silly japes, empty bragging. There were several smaller chambers next to the stables as well, and, hoping to see one of those gents without his stifling leathers on, Sensa had snuck into a dark alcove, watching as most of the party progressed past. She glanced round one corner as the voices died down to see Hogor and a good friend, each mostly disrobed, muscles taut and gleaming with sweat. They were laughing and snapping each other with wetted cloths, complaining about the hideous fly bites they had incurred. Sensa snickered and rolled her eyes. Hogor always played a bit rough and he was such a fine specimen--such thick, rippling arms--and despite some of her own desires, she never saw him play with the boys in other ways. She moved on after a moment, savoring that juicy flesh. Here the passage split off toward one of the cellar areas and, liking the coolness of the walls, Sensa ambled down a ways, though she was sure any boys or men would be elsewhere. Then she heard it, a muffled gasp, some whispered words. She would have left, but one of the voices was familiar, the one gasping, now close to a moan. Swallowing, she neared the thick oaken door holding closed the storeroom entrance. There was a small knot that had been knocked loose and, looking about her, face flushed, Sensa put her eye up close. Her breath caught as she saw Queen Sarah herself, face twisted about in some torment, her breasts spilling out of her half removed dress, pale and lovely. Her nipples poked out at the air and would have been peering up at the world if not for the gloved hands rubbing at them, teasing them out as the man behind her worked. Sensa could not see who he was, but it most certainly was not the king. This man seemed rougher, cruder, and he worked around the queen's ample breasts with abandon, cupping them up, letting his naked forearms slip up through them, letting them bounce down. The queen was murmuring things. It sounded like 'don't' and 'find us', but her body moved against the man's anyways, her dress falling a bit with each rolling wave of motion. Sensa felt her own breath quicken and her hand pressed against her garments, there, feeling her meat container warm. There was something familiar about that man, but it was hard to place it. Now he was pulling down the rest of the queen's beautiful green and gold silk brocade dress, moving one hand up to her throat to grasp her firmly, the other down to her split, to move her lips and fine hairs apart to start working at her, with vigor. Sensa gasped to realize she was wet herself and started to touch her nook eagerly, but the memory fell away suddenly as she heard a tapping at the door. The door here and now at the Crossing. "Go away, I'm quite busy!" she said hotly. A moment passed and then a voice said, "I thought you would want to see me, fair lady." Sir Claygone, of course! Sensa straightened her clothes, but surreptitiously ran her fingers past her aroused Vixen's Mouth before she went to the door. "Yes, come, please, my knight!" she said, ushering him in, then checking the hall without. After closing and locking up, she took him all in, The Pound. He looked very fine, as always, perhaps even more so now that she knew that he knew his techniques very well indeed. He was dressed in a buttery soft cream-coloured doublet, loosely laced brown breeches, and a small silver trinket hanging from one ear. His hair was left wild and flowing, but recently combed to a smoothness. As he strode across the lush carpets, his gauntlets of lobstered steel clanked at his side, used earlier during some yard practice, no doubt. He smelled of dust and hay and beneath that, man. Sensa still couldn't imagine someone that looked so rough that could hold such tenderness... and such passion. "Have you recalled anything else? Something we could possibly try out before I see Jeffrey again?" She curled a stray lock around her fingertip, ready to saunter over to the bed. Instead, the scarred man stepped over to the windows, raising a calloused finger. "No. Unfortunately." He pulled at the curtain cord, then at the rest, darkening the room. He turned and smirked. There was some nerve to him, she thought. She started toward him, but he raised a finger again. "Stop. I did remember something else, something I was only partially learned long ago, but might be useful in our wanton loving." Sensa furrowed her brow and let the ringlet in her hand drop. "Well, doesn't my knight think so much of himself? Will this thing be useful when dealing with my king? Or only my knight?" she offered, leaving a pout just for Sender. "I will tell you my short tale," he said, lounging further back, letting the bulk in his breeches strain outward. "But only if you bring that cunny over here. Without your pretty robe." He gestured at her small garment, knowing there was nothing beneath. Sure of the locked door and quiet halls behind her, she chewed her bottom lip, thinking. She ran her hands up her body, through her hair. "Why that's not chivalrous of you, my knight." "I told you before, that's not what I am. Strip down," he growled. Sensa froze. He wasn't a cruel man, and he knew that she could throw him out at any time, so what was he- "Now," he ordered. That was all. She shrugged out of the robe, smelling her thick ladypaste on her hands as she went. Her taut body felt chill in the draft and she knew what the sight of it did to Sender, to most men. Covering herself somewhat with her arms, she stood upright. "I will stand where I please." The knight-who-wasn't softened a little, raised his hand to placate her. "Young princess, if I am your knight, then do me a kindness." He smiled, letting his handsome features shine past his old wound. "Crawl over to my feet. Slowly. Hands and knees." Sensa would have said something but the breath caught in her throat. Sender gestured to the thick rug. She looked down, then back at him, feeling a heat grow over her, feeling her quimmouth moisten and tense. First one knee bent, then the other, the soft flooring catching her. Her hair fell over her face as she stretched forward, dipping her shoulders down, letting her lady lumps rise. Letting the man get a good, long look. "Please start," she said. She drew it out, made her voice alluring. "I'll come, slow. And then, maybe you..?" Sender made a shushing sound, licked his lips, and began. "Jeffrey and I have known each other many years, almost since birth. We have been close as brothers, and so, we fought as much as brothers. Maybe," he paused, watching Sensa slink over, those swaying hips. She knew her little move had worked, aroused even more now knowing of his arousal. "Maybe even more than was healthy," he continued. "Several years ago, after we had got into a fairly bloody match, my father the Chancellor thought to teach us a lesson by forcing us to take lessons on manhood from the head eunuch, who knew secrets from both east and west." Sensa stopped and giggled, but saw Sender's eyes flare. "I'm sorry, my big knight," she said, wriggling a little. She was nearly at his shiny black boot. Sensa decided to add some more sway to her moves, like a viper full of curves and love venom. "Quiet, princess. Crawl." He adjusted his stance, his hardness betraying him. "The eunuch, his name was Contraculus, and for someone that would have been a man, he was... beautiful. Not as a woman on her hands and and knees, but even so." "What we thought was a lesson in shame, being taught by someone so unmanly, was in fact the opposite. He had told us of his gash where he was no longer a man, but oh, his greatest lesson was to show us that though he didn't have the stones, he had developed ways to very much control his staff." The boot was now in Sensa's face, so she decided to kiss her way up it, creases of leather beneath her lips. "Hold, princess," The Pound told her, cupping the side of her head firmly to show her he meant it. "The whore he used for instruction was most likely surprised as well, as he thrust at her for more than two hours, lecturing us on stamina, thought control, and on and on. Never once did he break a sweat." He stopped and stared down at the smooth lines and great breasts of his princess. Taking a hand, he lifted her up straight and looked her up and down, drinking her celestial perfume. "He promised to show us this style, to have us master our own sturdy cocks and our natures, but only if we did so together, learning as brothers. He paid the whore well for our use, even though we were failures at it the first time. The only time, I'm sad to say." “Oh that sounds dreadful,” Sensa pouted, coming in for a kiss. The Pound only responded by pushing her head to his shoulder, holding her face into it. “Shhhh,” he whispered. She flushed as deep as a plump, overripe strawberry. Sensa looked up at the big man as he eased his mighty grip, hairy and rough and outlined in his handsome doublet, so very well-defined and quick and strong under it all, putting thought of his scar out of mind. She also felt his breeches bulging with his barely contained, throbbing mass. She grinned, feeling her innate pleasure kitten dancing. Then, without warning, Sender's strong hands gripped her the curve of her hips, and before she knew it, he upended her, holding her upside down, hair dragging across the ground, blood rushing to her head. She gave a small yelp. “Now now, princess,” Sender said. “What have we here. An empty hole and a winking pearl, begging attention.” “Oh Sen... Pound, my lord...” Sensa was dizzy and surprised by the brush of his thick crotch. “Do you want me to continue, oh innocent young lady?” “Y-yes, please,” Sensa said, practicing her manners. “Then let's continue. Use that perfectly not-filthy mouth and suckle my meat lance.” Sensa tried to gasp or laugh, but it got caught while hanging upside down. Sender's grip hadn't loosened. She placed her legs around the big knight's neck, grabbed hold of his laces, and in one smooth move, released his yearning, throbbing fleshsnake. “Contraculus was a master, to be sure,” Sender said as he adjusted himself. Adjusted his crotch closer to Sensa. She smiled and licked the tip, caressed the shaft. “He would have told us more of his Wu-Teng technique, but our stupid childhood rivalries interfered.” Sensa grasped at the man's firm rear end and tried to swallow his cock whole, dragging her teeth back she let it out. Sender gulped and let out a soft ah. He adjusted his arms, wrapping them around the small of her back, lifting her juicy mound right beneath his mouth. “A few days later, Contra was sent away on urgent business, and we saw him not until years later. All I could do was blame Jeff. I was young and wanted to introduce every maiden to my cock, what can I say? And we kept on fighting. Because we were close, I suppose. Because we secretly wanted each other to be happy and fulfilled, and maybe… to genuinely enjoy each other if no one else would.” Sensa nodded as best she could, mouth slavering over the hot bulge. Sender gave her whole hatchet wound a great lick, and surprised, her body trembled, blasting out a queef in his face. Ptthffbrp! Mortified, Sensa laughed, licked at the oaken wonder in front of her as a distraction. “Enjoyed that, did you? What a naughty little thing. Is that the last of it, or is there more?” Sender buried his face in that wolf's mound, setting her body on fire. He was sloppy, but it was wonderful, stroking at the nib, jolting her body with pleasure at every move. Then it happened again, brrrpthp! “Yes, Jeffrey was handsome even then,” he continued, mindless of Sensa's mouth or expulsions. “There were many, mmf, maidens ready for him, but they never knew the pleasure of a bath after a long day with him, or of, ungh, sharing a tent in the cold night on the roads.” Sensa continued slurping and sucking, eliciting only a few sounds from Sender. He shook her between licks and talking, air going in and out of her now engorged pussy, plarbt, phwfif, brarptt! Still, his tongue took the time to work at her, stroking her bead and plunging her front gates. “Our feelings mellowed with time, but I think we still share something there. A reason to all our heat and, shlurp, bickering.” Sender leaned back to whisper down to Sensa, “But even still, I have some of that Wu style. And I will show you. Now.” It wasn’t a request. Sensa smiled to herself, felt another hot rush come to her. She squeezed Sender's neck with her milky thighs and deepthroated his girthy, dusky, veiny sausage. As if to add an extra note, her wet idol passage spurt out, prabarfth! Sender moaned with delight, shifted his hips forward to push his cock further. She gulped and gagged, and he moved forward still, smacking at her buttocks, ripe as pear fruits, and nearly as solid. Ahh the sounds came. “Th-though I am no mas-master at the Wu 'chambers', I still learned a trick or two,” Sender claimed. He reached down and pushed the auburn-clad head back, making a wet popping noise as it left his cock. He stepped over to the bed, carrying them both along like a sweating, fleshy spider, where he flopped them on the mattress. A moment later, his face was buried in her quim, licking and prodding, shuffling around her craggy cavern, snuffling as a good dog might. She nearly shrieked, but he grabbed her waist tight and thrust his man-meat into her mouth, moving back and forth. Sweat-soaked, they gnawed at each other long enough for the sun to fully set and the moons to come out. Fire streamed through them at every moist slurp. Finally, Sensa could not control herself any longer and felt her tinglings mount into full shudders before she burst in a climax and the fire raced all over her, clenching her lithe thighs around her knight’s head and neck. Spurred on, Sender grunted once, twice, and came all in her mouth, letting it stream in, pooling in her mouth and dribbling out all over her lips and face. Sensa ooh-ed as best she could and lapped at him, taking in his seed, hungrily. He knelt over her on the bed and smiled at her, still half-erect. “If only your mother had a clue, eh? She might not be so willing to let us have our ‘talks’,” he said, self-satisfied. Of course, her mother! She had nearly forgot their evening plans. Sensa covered herself quickly, took a swig from a water goblet and told her knight to pleasantly get out for the night, warbling like some large frog. * Kate stood staring out of her chamber windows, candles all around her, the keep windows all lit below, the stars themselves like thousands of fresh-lit wicks. If she wasn’t so conscious of her appearance, she would have ground at her teeth over how vexing this court business was. The lovely young men with their splendid beef tubes were a bonus, but she had set her mind to this task, and now these lords were too petty to see the good they could do. It didn’t help that her own children were here and there and everywhere but within her sight, adding to frustration. Just as she was about to ring her handmaids to ask after her daughter, one of them knocked, ushering in Sensa, who looked positively radiant. A little too glowing, if she had anything to say about it, but she kept quiet. Sensa was a true lady now, it was good to let her have her… interlocutions. They were clad one in fine green fabric, one in blue, to set off their admittedly gorgeous hair. “You shouldn’t have kept me, dear,” Kate said. Sensa looked as if she was going to say something, possibly protest or confess, but she stopped, then started again, “The Pou-Sir Claygone, we ran across each other, and we… talked for a time. I lost track.” It was Kate’s turn now to hold back. She nodded instead, motioning her little goddess over to the candlelit window, to join her along the alcove bench to look out at the lit lights, glowing in the inkily lit night. There was wine, to help Kate dull her frustration, and no doubt to loosen their tongues. “So, has Sender told you anything interesting during you time?” Kate asked, then took a sip. Sensa’s eyes clouded over with youthful dreaminess, and she said, “Oh many things, mother. He is much more gentle and wise than you or anyone might think. He seems rough, but that’s only because you don’t know him. But I do.” “Enough to forget his proper address, I see,” Kate said, smiling down into her golden goblet. Reddening, Sensa glared at her mother. “If the king can call him that, then surely I can. And you seem to think you are on a first-name basis, but you never speak!” So it was true, then. She couldn't deny her girl's point, either. “Well, come, what does a man with layers like that have to say to such a well-bred daughter of mine?” “Oh, this and that. Things about the court, his adventures. Probably like things father said to you, once.” I can see that, Kate told herself. And he had pledged himself to me so fully, then. And what of Sensa now? Does she see only Jeffrey, or Sender? Can a girl--no, a woman--have both? She thought of being stuffed full herself and sighed. Her internal sex sprites were frolicking. She sipped again and stared at the sky. But then again, she had earned the right, both in living, and through death. Maybe they both had. “I suppose he and Jeffrey are so entwined that it doesn't hurt to know one just as much as the other,” Kate finally said. “Ah mother,” Sensa softened, easing into her spot now. “If you only knew. Actually, that was something Sen... Sender mentioned. When they were both being schooled, they would fight like cat and dog, though they did care for each other. The way he talked about it, you could see that he really does love Jeffrey, but all that foolish manliness and kingly duty gets in the way and they can't be true to themselves about it. Even full grown, I think they are at least fond of each other.” She stared down into her goblet. “Not that it means anything to you, mother.” Kate, meanwhile, had only been absently listening. Now she was thinking over those words. Eyes widening, something dawned on her. She reached out a hand and rested it on her daughter's. “No, not at all, Sensa. Gods, you've actually given me a key, I think!” It was risky, but it could work! Yes, yes, it all made sense. She had to speak to her two lords, and soon. And propriety be damned, she would bring her own mother monster to bear on the duo, if she had to. Maybe she would anyway. Her miniature Vixen glistened at the thought. Sensa screwed up her face at her mother. “I don't under-” “You don't have to, dear. I don't know why I didn't think of it before, but yes, sometimes boys will be boys. I am not mad at you, you have helped a great deal.” She rose, green shimmering against the candlelight. “All this time, the deadlines were coming down on me, and the answer was right here. Never doubt your inner goddess, Sensa. It will win out against all things male, time and again.” “I... yes, mother?” Had she slipped up, somehow? Was her mother approving of her? Of her and both men? “So you think it's fine? That I see Claygone?” “Hm?” Her mother had already made her way to the writing desk, now a flutter of motions. “Oh, yes, yes. I'm sorry dear, there's one last bit of king's business to do! You may take your leave, and we'll meet again soon. Send one of the girls in, please.” Sensa, still reeling from her head down to her pink basement, nodded and shuffled on out. Her mother was a strange creature sometimes, but at least she seemed to not be so dense this time. As her sweet daughter left, Kate's eyes glowed. There was a way the men would talk, bend to her will. No one could resist the sweet call of wine and hard thrusting, not those two especially. Grinning, her queen's clam quivered in anticipation. ------------------------------------------- Some thoughts - livin up to my redtxt, holla. - i'll take a break, but can help out 'fixing' things here and there - should the book be made more coherent, or just include a lot of non-sequiturs and random references to worldbuilding? - when's the last WoT book out? - anyone a half-decent cover artist? there's people in the self-pub and goonreads threads that can help, too - stay tuned for a separate fanfic gift tomorrow!
|
|
#
?
Dec 24, 2012 23:30
|
|
|
me grrmsta
|
|
#
?
Dec 25, 2012 00:36
|
|
|
You've got the window but no streaming light. 0/10
|
|
#
?
Dec 25, 2012 00:40
|
|
|
Wait haha is Hogor simultaneously in Emperor's landing and Autumnfall?
|
|
#
?
Dec 25, 2012 01:08
|
|
|
Hogor is in all things. He is everywhere.
|
|
#
?
Dec 25, 2012 01:30
|
|
|
I have nothing to do on Christmas Day morning so I will probably dive in and get as far as I can. And probably kill myself a few hours later, but hey, no one lives forever.
|
|
#
?
Dec 25, 2012 01:44
|
|
|
Sophia posted:I have nothing to do on Christmas Day morning so I will probably dive in and get as far as I can. And probably kill myself a few hours later, but hey, no one lives forever.
|
|
#
?
Dec 25, 2012 02:01
|
|
|
Besides, you should know by now that there are far shittier ways to die. And the Azor Ahai thing is practically the definition of a Christmas miracle.
|
|
#
?
Dec 25, 2012 02:08
|
|
|
Sophia posted:I have nothing to do on Christmas Day morning so I will probably dive in and get as far as I can. And probably kill myself a few hours later, but hey, no one lives forever. Festive help! (not really): Turkeys are hung, people are hanged. (No, it does not mean past tense) Where all the prepositions at? There/they're/their Should/Would/Could have (It is called a contraction, sound it out, you predictive text motherfuckers, no, seriously, that makes me want to knife you in the face) Finite. Infinite. Definite. Definitely. [Can a mod advocate the use of that as a word filter please?] Amount is for things, number is for people. Some other thing, I dunno, GRRM is hyoid bone-deep in festive chow while he's not trying to shove an American football-shaped egestion from Parris up his urethra.
|
|
#
?
Dec 25, 2012 02:39
|
|
|
rejutka posted:Turkeys are hung, people are hanged.
|
|
#
?
Dec 25, 2012 02:44
|
|
|
|
| # ? Jun 4, 2024 20:55 |
|
|
Ample. The word is ample.
|
|
#
?
Dec 25, 2012 02:59
|
|