In the previous chapter Aegon explained why at length.
I exist in a weird bubble where every time someone has something bad to say about my writing they just end up exposing themselves as basic, ignorant, or spoiled. That's why I stopped asking for feedback years ago and try to catch myself whenever I slip up and start craving interaction with the readers. It's usually sparked off by someone doing a review in which they reveal some insight into narrative or reveal that their honest feelings match perfectly with what I was trying to invoke. Happened just recently, and while it inspires me to write on, I know I can't rely on it and need to only write for myself. Stay self centered, always.
In a comment aimed at fixing something you find boring, you come up with the most cliche and boring recommendation possible. Check yourself, homie, because those fingers are all pointing back at you.
The final arc proves that Jorah was right from the start. Magic in Westeros is evil and should be destroyed. The temptation to use the powers he gained by defeating the Old Gods set him down a path without justification, and his giving into the temptation is well foreshadowed from the start. Jorah always uses whatever he can to the fullest.
Wait up, bruh. You telling me you identified with Jorah before this? Jesus Christ come upon this man for the sake of humanity.
For all that I complain about him, Sunfyre is the best mount to ever serve me, and on that list are many fine and hearty horses, hand raised Texas sized polar bears, and a team of dolphins rigged to pull my boat so I may both sail and and get blown from both ends by Dornish concubines. Verily, the dolphins did me good service, but locomotion via my spectacularly colored flying weapon of mass destruction pleases me in something deeper than my rectum. Perhaps all the way to the hard black stone people tell me is my heart, when they chose not to claim me heartless.
Book&Literature · JManM
For all that I complain about him, Sunfyre is the best mount to ever serve me, and on that list are many fine and hearty horses, hand raised Texas sized polar bears, and a team of dolphins rigged to pull my boat so I may both sail and and get blown from both ends by Dornish concubines. Verily, the dolphins did me good service, but locomotion via my spectacularly colored flying weapon of mass destruction pleases me in something deeper than my rectum. Perhaps all the way to the hard black stone people tell me is my heart, when they chose not to claim me heartless.
Book&Literature · JManM
Jorah lost his first wife and their youngest daughter to the same Spring Sickness that killed Lady Stark.
I can't even remember her face, and it took an effort of will to even recall her name. The only image of her life still fresh in my mind is her small shrouded form on the pyre next to her mother. As we move through different stages of our lives it becomes harder and harder to remember what came before. We are not what we did. We are not the friends we kept. We are certainly not the truth. We are the stories we tell ourselves. More than anything else, tell yourself the right stories.
Book&Literature · JManM
It updates in my free time.
It's low priority unless someone pays me to get to it.
This was my life back as a teenager, but I adapted and overcummed.
"You do this now, for interrupted fornication?" my father looked at me slack jawed.
Game of Thrones: Path of the Hungry Bear
Book&Literature · JManM