#I love you 3000 II

[scarletcomalies]

soul bounds intertwined

Wanda Maximoff x Fem Reader

Part I, Part II

Word count: 5,864

Warnings: Ghosting, public confrontation and fighting, Billy being an idiot. 18+ content, degrading, pet names, magic strap that Wanda can feel as if it's real, blowjob (W. receiving), oral (R. Receiving), strap-on usage (R. receiving), taking Polaroid pictures while doing it, slapping, overstimulation, fingering, squirting aftercare.

Taglist: @alexawynters @ageofolsen @imjustvibingsworld @huggingkoalas @unadulteratedballoonduck @megsheather @kimiisims-blog @morganismspam23 @reginassweetheart @vyvvycg @cindyangelicss @newyork1432 @imaginaryblogger01 @sleepless-cloudy @starryskiesandboys

A/N: This is it. I cannot begin to express how unbelievably happy it makes me to see all the love you gave to this trilogy 🥹 I also had a good laugh as I read the frustrated reblogs on part II MWAHAHA!!! Hope you like this last one part. Thank you 3000 once again. 💓

Following the incidents at the Maximoff residence, you thought that Wanda had completely cut you out of her life. However, a few months later, she reached out to you, pulling you into a situation that would lead to unforeseen twists and turns.

You couldn't recall the last time you ran as if your life depended on it.

Your best guess was when you accidentally set the treadmill to 24 kilometers per hour, and while you were figuring out where the button to slow down was, you had to keep that pace so as not to fall.

However, the adrenaline that coursed through your veins the instant Wanda laid her hands and lips on you for the first time, followed by her command for you to leave, was so inmense that it was no wonder your body mistook it for danger, screaming for you to escape immediately.

And you obeyed, running to your car as if Wanda was chasing you with a knife, determined to snatch your destiny and your future in a matter of seconds, when in reality, she remained static. She didn't move an inch from where she left you, but her gaze haunted you all the way home.

You could still feel it piercing right at the back of your mind, causing this sensation to send unconscious impulses to your body, such as occasionally checking the backseat through the rearview mirror, when you knew there was no one but you in the car.

You scarcely noticed when you arrived at your apartment or when you collapsed onto your bed. Your mind was too tangled in a whirlwind of confusion and shock to be mindful of your own actions.

What did this mean for you and Wanda? Was there any way to turn back from this? Questions raced through your mind, but one fact stood amongst all of those uncertainties: things would never be the same again.

Three long months where your mind pirouetted through endless what-ifs.

What if you had turned down Billy's advances from the start? What if you had been more discreet about taking those photographs? What if you had never blurted out the confession Wanda had forced from you? What if you had stayed, on your knees, begging for her forgiveness, instead of running away as though your feelings were a crime?

Despite your mind's endless wanderings, your thoughts unavoidably drifted back to the same place; her lips on yours, like a forbidden fruit that was worth all of your sinning.

Oh, how intoxicatingly wet they felt, how expertly her tongue and hands managed to cast a spell of desire that tormented your very existense, driving you to a fervor that dangerously danced on the edge of madness.

And so you made Herculean efforts with words, devoting at least two hours each week to finding new ways to let Wanda know that you never intended for this situation to escalate like it did, yet none succeeded reaching to her distant heart.

It was painfully clear that just one response from her could end this torment, yet she played a cruel game of a calculated and well-deserved revenge.

She didn't block you. That would have been a closure, a clear statement she wanted nothing more to do with you. Instead, she left you on read immediately, ensuring there was no doubt she was ignoring you. She left you hanging on a thread of false hope, teasing you with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, it'll be different next time.

Her behavior was akin to that of a prepotent God, relishing in the power to decide whether to answer the prayers of her humble believers or subject them to the agony of her indifference.

It took you long enough to realize you wouldn't have any of it anymore. You dared to test the predictability of her cruel game, refusing to give her power over you any longer.

Fortunately for you, in the third month since you last saw her —from which a month and a half you spent without writing to her— you received a call from her.

You let it go to voicemail twice, so as not to seem too eager to hear from her, and finally called her back the next day.

"Oh, so fast you were answering my calls before, and now you want to play hard?" Was the first thing she said to you.

You rolled your eyes.

How dare she protest for it when she had you drifting and yearning for so long?

"What do you need?" You asked in as neutral a tone as possible. You weren't going to answer in annoyance, or it would mean you were still affected by this whole situation.

"You're going to show up at the meeting Tony Stark organized, at the Avengers Compound, remember it was a pending thing?" It wasn't a request, it was an order. "This time, I'm bringing the boys, and you're going to tell Billy everything. Everything, (Y/N)."

You scoffed, both indignant and surprised. The latter due to the fact that Wanda might not have told Billy about what had happened.

"You never told him yourself?" You inquired, curiosity getting the better of you.

"I don't have the heart to tell him," she replied. "But I suppose you do, since you had the heart to do what you did."

You were going to justify yourself immediately, but stopped midtracks. You weren't going to sound like a broken record, repeating the same old story to her again.

"And if I refuse?" You challenged her.

"I can ruin things for you beyond repair," Wanda responded confidently. "Your career, your reputation, you name it. Don't underestimate what I'm capable of when pushed."

Her words cut through any defiance you might have felt, leaving you defeated and humiliated, just like that night.

Maybe it was abuse of power, but you brought this upon yourself, and she just wanted to make sure you paid for hurting someone she loved. You would have done the same, and you adored her even more for that.

At your silence, she added, "And bring all the photographs you took of me. I don't want to give you the pleasure of having a single trace of me after this."

And that's how you ended up at the Avengers Compound, Upstate New York.

If your nerves weren't consuming your stomach like a potent acid burner, you would have appreciated much more the fresh air outside the building, and how silence finally prevailed in your surroundings, the hectic sounds of the crowded city now long gone.

"Ready?" Kate asked, looking at you with a sheepish, concerned look once she pulled the handbrake.

"Yeah," you replied amidst a deep breath that you didn’t even know for how long you’ve been holding.

While you both stepped out of Kate’s car, the weight of your hand purse almost pulled you back into the seat, knowing that two things in there held the delicate fate of your relationship with Wanda and of your career.

It contained your lipstick, your phone, and all the photographs, along with a letter that would be a last attempt to clear things up.

At the front door, a female voice through a screen asked for your name and Kate's, and once it was given, she replied: "You're on the list. Welcome, (Y/N) and Kate."

You held your hand purse tightly, as you walked to the elevator and Kate pressed the floor's button. The only audible sound on the way upstairs was the click of your heel anxiously tapping against the floor, and your heavy breathing.

"Easy, you find Billy, tell him, 'Hey, I liked your mom all this time, you just were delusional,' give the pictures and letter to Wanda, take my car, and get out," Kate tried to cheer you up, making it sound as simple as she was telling it, when to you, it was a life-or-death feat.

You laughed more out of commitment than anything else.

There was no point in contradicting her words if the elevator opened within two seconds of her finishing her sentence.

You spotted Wanda almost immediately.

She was standing near the entrance, her posture rigid, and her eyes immediately fixed on you with an intensity that could burn a hole right through you and all the walls of the building together. The way she looked at you so quickly revealed that she was watching the elevator every time it opened, waiting for you.

Kate patted you on the back, and headed off to where Yelena would be.

Lucky her, she would spend the night with her girlfriend, while you were anticipating to drown in your own tears before falling asleep, knowing that you had ruined any chance with the first person who had set a warming fire in your heart, now a conflagration of despair and yearning.

With every step you took her way, your legs felt like they might give out beneath you, but you forced yourself to keep moving, closing the distance between you and Wanda.

"Wanda", you greeted her and nodded in acknowledgement of the person she was talking to. You recognized him immediately from the old pictures rummaging online of Wanda and her ex-partner. Despite his imposing figure, he was just a blurry silhouette that you didn't bother to focus on until you had him in front of you. "Nice to meet you, I'm (Y/N).”

"Ah, (Y/N)," he exclaimed with a smile. "I'm Vision, Tommy and Billy's father. I'm pleased you could make it. The boys are over there at the middle table."

"That's a good idea," Wanda said. "Why don't you go with Billy? I'm sure you have a lot to discuss."

You tried to resist rolling your eyes at her sarcastic statement.

"I would prefer to speak with you first," you replied, failing to maintain eye contact with her, still appearing like a nervous lamb.

"I will consider it, after you do what I asked," she replied, turning her attention back to Vision as a way to cut conversation. The latter appeared perplexed, but perhaps Wanda would prefer to avoid the situation or lie about it, which you thanked.

Your steps towards Billy's table felt lighter, which indicated that you were far more concerned about exchanging a simple greeting with Wanda than you were about confessing to Billy that your feelings were for his mother and not him. Once again, it was evident that you cared about her more than you ever did for Billy.

"(Y/N)! Hey!" Billy greeted you with a smile, moving quickly to embrace you. "Oh, I missed you so much. What happened? My mom said you and her had an argument, but never specified why, and always gets pissed off when I ask her."

You reciprocated the embrace, unconsciously offering an apology in advance for what were going to be your next words.

"Hi," you replied, giving him a light touch on the back. “Uhm, that’s true, actually, that’s why I’m—"

"Hi, you," Tommy approached you before you could reply, and offered you a less invasive hug than his brother’s. "You know? I recently saw the infamous Kate Bishop,” he chuckled.

You joined him in laughter, appreciating his presence as a source of comfort. This brief conversation felt like a stop to the train of thought that was threatening to run over you.

"If you would like, I can arrange an introduction," you offered him, shrugging briefly. "Not with that intention, of course, but you would gain a friend. A great one."

"I'm game for new friends, always," he agreed, taking a sip of his beverage. You proceeded to walk with Tommy following you, and you noticed that Billy was completely ignored by both of you, being left behind sitting at the table by himself.

What if, during the lively twenty-minute conversation between you, Tommy, Kate, and Yelena, you had taken just half a minute to ask him to join? Everything would have been different.

"Excuse me," your smile faded and your voice trembled when your gaze fell on Billy. He had the letter in his hands and all the photographs scattered all over the table.

You had left your hand purse on there, and it was inevitable that Billy would be so curious to look through it.

A lump formed in your throat as you watched helplessly as he examined the contents of the letter with increasing astonishment.

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest when you realized that he had discovered your deepest secret, and you no longer had a chance to find a way to reveal it in the less hurtful way that could ever occur to you. That possibility slipped like sand through your fingers.

You rushed towards the table. Every step you took felt like torture. As if you were running a ten-kilometer marathon instead of crossing a few metres.

“Billy…” you breathed, a whisper so barely audible that you hoped it would vanish in the air before the inevitable storm swept through.

His fingers trembled on the vertical edges of the piece of paper, now mostly crumbled by the force with which he held it.

Billy Maximoff had always lived in the shadow of his mother’s fame and his twin brother's effortless charm. In that dim corner, he was often overlooked.

Therefore, when he saw your letter, where you expressed regret for using Billy to reach his mother, but admitted you felt no remorse for how her lips had kissed yours with such fervor that night after the bonfire, it struck him like a frigid, merciless wave crashing over him, leaving him breathless and reeling.

A guttural, angry growl erupted from his throat, resonating with such intensity that it caught the attention of everyone present, including Wanda.

Subsequently, he threw the photographs all over the floor, scattering them like autumn leaves blown by a tempest.

His eyes, once filled with affection, now burned with betrayal as they landed on you. However, what caused an icy tendril of fear to coil around your stomach was those sacred photographs, completely exposed for others to see.

You took a step to retrieve the photographs, but a firm hand clasped around your arm, making you gasp in protest, but overall, disbelief. His grip was a desperate, silent warning for you to confront the shattered trust before you, instead of safeguarding your own dignity.

"How could you do this to me?" He questioned. He breathed heavily, each choppy exhale escaping through trembling lips. His brows furrowed in anguish, adorned the torment in his glassy eyes.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. All you could do was stand there, frozen, as now Billy's eyes were just one of the many pairs that fixated on you.

"Answer me!" Billy’s voice echoed through the room.

"I'm so sorry, Billy," you whispered, but the words felt shallow and inadequate.

Wanda's eyes bore into you from across the room, her expression unreadable, yet you knew she was waiting for the fallout.

Billy shook his head, as he laughed sarcastically.

“’Sorry’? Really?” His voice climbed in pitch, raw with fury. “You used me. You lied to me. And for what? To get close to my mom? MY MOM! HOW FUCKING SICK IS THAT?”

You turned around, your gaze sweeping over the room, and the collective shock on everyone’s faces nearly made you crumble right there.

But before you could fully grasp the gravity of their reactions, Billy grabbed your face with a tight grip, and pulled you closer, forcing you to look back at him, demanding your full attention.

“Look at me,” he rasped, his voice breaking with pain. “This is about the pain you caused me, not them.”

Kate, who had been watching every moment with a readiness to intervene and protect you if necessary, rushed to you both in alarm as soon as Billy’s hands gripped your face so violently.

With a sudden, forceful motion, she wrenched Billy’s hands away from you.

“You're fucking done, you hear me, asshole?” Kate hissed, towering over him as she created a protective barrier between you and Billy.

The latter whimpered in pain, a sound that spurred Wanda into action, her own distress evident as she rushed forward.

“That's enough!” Wanda exclaimed, a red wisp of magic surrounding Kate's hand and Billy's wrist in order to prevent her to cause him more pain. In consequence, Kate clenched her jaw in defeat, for she knew better than to defy someone as powerful as Wanda Maximoff.

You didn’t even notice when Natasha Romanoff appeared at your side, wrapping her arm around you with a firm, yet gentle hold.

“You’ve explained yourself,” the redhead said softly, her voice felt like the calm amidst the storm. “Let him handle the truth on his own. Let’s go…”

You were about to comply, the pull of Natasha's presence giving you the courage to leave everything behind for good.

But Billy’s last, scathing remark stopped you in your tracks.

“Oh, great! So now Mommy’s going to fix everything for me?” He snapped. “Isn’t that just perfect? Always stepping in to save the day while I get to deal with the mess you made!”

Her eyes widened in a heart-shattering mixture of confusion and sorrow. Her features altogether conformed what could be best described as the ultimate portrait of devastation.

No wonder. The sole purpose of forcing you to confess your mistakes to Billy was so you could face the consequences, and leavr you with a heavy conscience, never once imagining that she would be cast as a villain in her own son’s eyes.

And even though Wanda blatantly defended her son against your best friend —who was, in turn, protecting you from Billy’s wrath—, you couldn’t fight against the sympathy at such a heartache.

"Billy, I consider you a very dear friend, and I never meant to hurt you," you spoke up, stepping next to Wanda, implicitly offering her your inconditional support. “But my feelings for Wanda... they were never meant to deceive or harm you. I understand if you can't forgive me, but please know that it’s not her fault.”

"I think it's best if we all take a moment to breathe," Vision interjected calmly, stepping forward. "Emotions are high right now, and we need clarity to understand each other." His calm voice stood out against the atmosphere around you.

You knew that he and Wanda had drifted apart due to the demands of their lives; his Avenger missions and her career had led them in different directions. Their breakup was friendly, a mutual recognition that their paths no longer matched. Still, it was impressive how Vision maintained his composure, given the situation's nature.

Wanda nodded in agreement.

"Billy, let's talk privately. This isn't something we should handle in front of everyone."

“Oh, yes, that’s because you don’t want your superhero friends to know how you kissed (Y/N) right after I went to sleep that night, isn't that right?” He scoffed.

Although you didn't turn to check everyone's reaction, you could perfectly picture the shock once more evident on their faces, now at the possibility that maybe Wanda felt the same.

But unlike last time, where everyone decided to remain silent and play dumb, Tony spoke up from the table, “So what, kid? Good for them, now move the fuck on,” he groaned, his voice dripping with irritation that his friendly reunion had turned into a whole drama show.

“I did it to force her to confess,” Wanda justified. “And to punish her for hurting you.”

Billy’s gaze was skeptical, as he raised his eyebrow in disbelief. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t feel anything when you did that.”

Wanda’s resolve fell apart at that very question. Her eyes flickered away from his intense stare, enough to confirm what Billy had feared all along.

You were overpowered by a bliss so intense it seemed to permeate every fiber of your being, immediately making you forget the pain and despair that took place these last months.

“See?” Billy’s voice rose. “I wanted a chance to be happy, to be seen for once, and you took that away from me," he choked out, his voice breaking.

“Oh, Billy, I can’t take away what you didn’t have in the first place,” she scoffed. Her sadness was now replaced by a fierce anger.

She always felt exasperated at how her son had consistently drowned himself in self-pity, ever since he made the decision to age-skip. This wasn't the first time he manipulated every situation to fit his narrative. And this was the last straw for her.

“Ohhh, you think you’re so high and mighty, don’t you?” He spat, stepping close to her. “DON'T YOU?” And in a sudden outburst, Billy shoved Wanda with a force that sent her crashing to the floor.

The room gasped collectively at his gesture, and that was when everyone decided to take action instead of just being mere expectants.

You dropped to your knees, feeling both worried and enraged. The intensity of your indignation seemed to be making the ground beneath you tremble.

How could Billy not recognize the suffering he was causing to his own mother? Why was his need for validation bigger than his capacity to rationalize?

Tommy Maximoff: Yelena and I watched everything escalate so quickly, and we agreed not to get involved if we didn't have to. My father, Natasha and Kate were alert, and my mother has dealt with a thousand times worse than some whiny college boy (pauses) but seeing how that idiot pushed my mother, and wanted to degrade her like that?! All of a sudden, my fist collided with his face.

Tony Stark: Looking back, maybe this whole scene could have made a good dramatic painting (chuckles). I mean... Yelena, Kate, Natasha and this photographer girl giving moral support to Wanda at a table in the corner, while she allowed her son to get his comeuppance for being such a brat. Meanwhile, Tommy hitting Billy so hard it took Vision, Clint and I to separate them.

Tommy Maximoff: Even I'm shocked at the fact that it took my father, Hawkeye, and Iron Man to separate me from him. I guess I had a lot of pent up anger, and that moment was my breaking point.

Wanda Maximoff: Why did I allow it? The answer is simple; I gave up and even made the person I loved suffer in order to give my son his place. And what did he do? He made showed me in every way possible that I was a disgrace to him for the simple fact of having given birth to him. Well, if that's the case, good riddance.

Pepper Potts: Oh, what I'm missing by accompanying Peter (Parker) to a debate in Germany (laughs).

Vision: After the incident, Billy has not contacted us again. He thinks he's an outlaw, and we'll give him the benefit of the doubt. I'll just say that at least he is managing to make a name out of himself like he so badly wanted.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N): I hope he's going to therapy!

Wanda Maximoff: What did (Y/N) and I do after it all ended? We went to my room, at the Compound, and… I’ll keep the rest to myself.

"Please, I'll be a good girl," you whimpered, looking up at her with trembling lips and pleading eyes.

She had you kneeling between her legs as she sat on the edge of her bed. You couldn't handle all the torturing teasing she was putting you through, as she smacked her faux cock against your lips, and every time you tried to welcome it into your mouth, she pulled it back, only to repeat the process again.

"Oh, you already are," Wanda breathed, leaning very close to your lips that you could feel the lingering smell of wine on her breath. "But Mommy wants more than just a good girl. She wants a naughty little slut who does anything to please her.”

Before you could moan in response at the nickname she gave herself, she attacked your mouth in an aggressive kiss. At this point, your jaw was sore from so much movement and your lips were swollen, but you wouldn't have it any other way. You had found home on her lips once and you were finally back.

"I’ll make you feel good, I promise, just let me," you pleaded, your mouth watering due all the panting from the anticipation. 

She gave in to the sight of those puppy eyes, swollen lips, and that upper body covered in hickies. Soon enough, she gently guided your head towards her strap, her hands resting on either side of your head. 

“Suck on me. Show me what you're made of.”

Her breathing quickened as your mouth worked its way down her cock. Her hips began to rock, seeking more contact. It was evident that with very little stimulation, she let her guard down, no longer caring to hide how weak she truly was for you.

You gagged at the intrusion but took it as best as you could, even though your eyes were beginning to water.

Just like the merciless woman she has demonstrated you she was, far from going easy on you, she gripped the back of your head, holding you in place.

Perhaps it was because it had been an incredibly long time since she had allowed herself to attend to her carnal needs, or perhaps it was because she found herself utterly and irresistibly attracted to you, or maybe it was a combination of both. 

Whatever the reason, the coil forming on her stomach overwhelmed her, and before she could even notice, the intense wave of pleasure caused her to spurt her hot cum into your mouth, leaving her breathless and trembling.

"Oh fuck," she groaned, riding herself out of her orgasm, giving you little to no participation. Simply using you as a face to get off to. 

You did your best to swallow every single drop she gave you, however a few drops trailed on your chin, and a little bit down on your neck.

Wanda grinned in satisfaction as she looked down at you.

None of your partners or hookups have ever taken the time to simply gaze down at you with anything more than burning desire. They always seemed to be in a rush, their eyes filled with nothing but lust and impatience. 

Wanda was different nevertheless. She seemed genuinely proud, filled with a warmth and admiration that made you feel truly seen and appreciated for the very first time.

"Good girl," she said, reaching out to wipe her cum off with her thumb. She then stuck it into your mouth, and watched you suck it clean. “And you know what good girls deserve after such a delicious treat?"

"What, Mommy?" You asked excitedly. 

"Their reward," Wanda purred, leaning down to kiss you passionately while her fingers trailed down your neck, and gripped it gently. "My little cum-slut deserves some good fucking.”

Wanda gave a quick beckon, motioning for you to get on your feet. You had barely stood up completely, when she gripped your hips tightly with her strong hands and forced you under her. Her superhuman force made you so featherlight in comparison to her, allowing her to have complete control over your movements, leaving no doubt about who was in charge in that moment.

The tip of her cock gently brushed against your entrance making you both shiver at the mere thought of what was about to happen.

She slowly thrust her hips forward, slowly penetrating you with her strap. 

You shut your eyes tight in response, gasping at how exquisite but painful it was to have your tiny hole stuffed by her massive cock. 

"There, you're doing well, baby,'" she said, caressing your cheek as a display of encouragement. “Do you need to stop?” She asked attentively. 

You shook your head in refusal, choosing instead to grasp her shoulders firmly, seeking something to anchor yourself to. The harshness of your touch brought a smile to her face, lighting up her eyes with a spark of joy at your silent approval. 

She slowly picked up the pace, thrusting deeper and harder into you. 

The slapping of your bodies, the headboard clashing against the wall, and your mutual panting and moaning were the only sounds echoing through Wanda’s spacious room at the compound. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, a chaotic blend of screams and moans escaping your lips as you dangerously hung on the edge of tears. 

She looked down at you, a satisfied smile playing on her lips, her eyes shimmering with delight as you writhed beneath her. 

"That's it," her hips slammed against yours with a fierce intensity. In response, she could feel your nails digging into her back, leaving angry red marks that would soon blossom into bleeding scratches. 

"Fuck... FUCK! I'm gonna cum! I need to cum," you screamed, not fighting against the tears any longer. 

"Cum for me, darling," she accentuated each worth with a single thrust. One of her hands reached between your legs, roughly massaging your clit with her thumb, determined to tear you apart through every single nerve ending that could occur to her.  

You screamed loudly, your walls squeezing her cock as you came hard. She could feel your juices flowing down her bedsheets, coating them in a warm sheen. Her seed didn't take much longer to fill you up, pushing against you as it spilled into every crevice of your pussy.

As her orgasm subsided, Wanda slowly pulled out of you, her dick slipping wetly from your hole. 

"Fuck, I wish you could see yourself right now," she whispered, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Just then, an idea sparked in her mind. "Stay right there," she commanded, climbing off you.

You watched, breathless, as she stood up, her strap glistening and even dripping with both of your releases.  

She opened a drawer and retrieved a Polaroid camera. 

"What? You're not the only one who owns one,” she stated, a playful smirk on her lips as she gauged at your surprised expression. 

She lay on her stomach, the camera positioned between your pussy and her face. With a playful grin, she snapped a picture, capturing the sight of your hole still dripping with your shared juices. The blinding flash it possessed would illuminate every detail and highlight the intensity of what you both had just experienced. 

She slid a single finger inside you, provoking your walls to swallow her without hesitation once more, making you arch your back in response to the pleasure coursing through you.

She couldn't resist taking another picture, the mesmerizing sight too beautiful to pass up.

She growled in desperate need, setting the camera aside as she flipped you on all fours, her eyes glinting with desire as she admired the view you presented. She as well switched her position, this time beneath you, guiding you to lower yourself onto her face.

As you settled in, she slipped two fingers inside you, curling them in a come-hither motion that provoked you to grip her hair desperately, the headboard being too far away for you to hold onto it.

However, she continued her ministrations, seemingly unbothered and even excited by your aggressive treatment.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you weren't even able to make a single sound as your breath cut down in your throat. You felt a tightness in your chest, and each second seemed to stretch into an eternity. All you could focus on was the intense feeling restricting your ability to breathe.

"S-s-stop! STOP!" She knew from your irregular breath and whimpering what was about to happen.

She would happily embrace whatever reaction you would have. However she wanted to teach you that you didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about, not through reassuring words but through desperation. 

Therefore, she slowed down her fingers, upom hearing your warning. She took her fingers out of you, pulling her hand out and slapping your ass. 

“Are you sure, baby?” She asked. 

"Fuck... no," you exclaimed, the feeling of your walls clenching at the lack of her fingers was too unbearable to handle. 

She chuckled and moved back to your entrance, finger fucking you senseless with a slow but hard pace. 

To her dislike, she eventually noticed that you were holding back again, and her irritation increased. She wanted you to let go, to embrace the experience fully, and she was ready to do whatever it took to guide you there.

"Baby, if you don't cum right now, I'm going to spank you so hard you won't be able to walk for a month," Wanda threatened. She reached around and pinched your clit, making you gasp as she continued fucking you.

“Mmm, here it comes,” you warned her, a whimper escaping from your lips as you prepared to unleash the inevitable. 

With a dramatic flourish, you tilted your head back, watching as your squirt arced out of your cunt like a shimmering comet, a cascade of droplets splashing across Wanda's face, not leaving an inch unsoaked.

You took a few deep breaths, defeatedly laying on your back next to her, leaving your tits and stomach on her sight, as well as your well-fucked pussy. 

And as if you were made of the most fragile crystal, she pulled the bedsheets from under you, enveloping both of you under the warmth of her bedsheets. 

The sudden shift of treatment caught you off guard, and before you knew it, she had you pulled back against her chest, the sweat of her body mixing with yours.

You could hear her rapid heartbeat. It was both comforting and electrifying, grounding your once racing heart into finding its rhythm again.

"I've got you, little one," she whispered softly in your ear. “I'm not letting you go, ever again,” she vowed, leaving open mouthed kisses on your forehead. 

And she held onto that promise. Forever.

The next day, the soft rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, emanating a warm glow in the room. 

You stirred awake to the gentle sensation of little kisses peppering your face. The older woman beside you, with her playful affection, made you wrinkle your nose in that adorable way that never failed to make her smile.

"How are you feeling, love?" She asked softly, her concern for you palpable both in her tone and expression.

"Wonderful," you replied, stretching your limbs with a lazy grace. You leaned in and pressed your lips against hers. "And you? Did you sleep well?"

"As I’ve ever slept in my life," she confirmed, her eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and something deeper. "I want to shout to the rooftops how much I love you, how profoundly you mean to me."

Wanda loved you. Truly, deeply loved you. 

What had transpired the night before was not merely a release of carnal desires; it was an intimate, powerful affirmation of connection, a way of claiming you as hers. 

"I love you more," you replied, your heart threatening to come out of your chest, as it was not yet used to this level of bliss. 

You pressed another kiss to her lips, pouring every ounce of your feelings into that simple peck.

"I have faith in us, in all of this," she said, her voice determined yet filled with vulnerability. "After everything that happened, would you give me a chance?" You could see the sincerity in her eyes, the longing for a future together. 

"Absolutely, my darling," you reached out, taking her hand in yours reassuringly. Two souls intertwining like an ivy growing over a sturdy stone. 

[trumpkinhotboy]

I'll keep an eye on you - III

pairing: jacob black x reader

genre: as always for this series, a mix of fluff and angst

warnings: curse words here and there?

word count: about 3000

a/n: It's finally here babes !!!!! this beautiful little series i love so so much🥺Thank you so much for your patience and all the lovin you have been giving to this little series of mine, it means the world to me<3

part I part II

A month had passed.

Slowly, you were healing from the horrible ordeal you had been through. Jake still came to sleep at your house almost every night. You kept up that routine for a few weeks, but after a while, you asked to try it alone. Even if he reluctantly agreed, he knew you needed to do this. So he promised to stay close the first night, ready to come in if you needed him. As it turns out, you were okay, and as days went by, you no longer needed him to keep watch hidden in the trees beside your house. Slowly, you were able to sleep all alone in your bed. You were incredibly proud of it, even if you missed having Jacob's warm body lying next to you at night.

You never spoke again of that night you confessed how everything gnawed at you. You thought about it often but never found the right time to discuss it. Since he hadn't mentioned it, you allowed it to go without answers for longer. You knew you'd end up getting to the bottom of it anyway.

The crisp autumn air ruffled your hair as you headed to the Reservation in your rusty truck, window pulled down, and music blasting, at least as much as your poor speakers could muster. You were incredibly excited to see everyone, and the prospect of hearing legends about the Quileutes made you tremble with excitement. You couldn't help but feel honored to be invited to these tribe gatherings. There weren't many outsiders allowed to hear the old tales.

You hadn't even parked your car when you saw Jacob's humongous form jogging for you. As always, a bright smile illuminated his tan face. And as always, you felt your knees wobble when you realized you were the recipient of such a beautiful thing. "Y/n! Over here!" He signaled for you to bring your truck closer to the backyard. Groaning, your truck obliged, and as soon as you shifted in park, your friend opened the door with a hand lifted for you to climb down. "Milady," he joked as his big hand engulfed yours.

Without letting go, he guided you to the rest of the tribe already gathered behind his little house. Some of the boys were working on making a big fire, and you were delighted to smell some delicious burgers being cooked over on the BBQ. Emily was busy ordering Sam and Paul around as she laid out plate after plate of delicious-looking food on a nearby table. You couldn't help a smile when you saw her swat Paul on the shoulder for not checking the patties often enough, and made a mental note to go and say hi to your friend as Jake pulled you in the opposite direction.

You reached the sitting area where Jacob's father and a few others were gathered, idly talking. You couldn't ignore the funny looks Quil and Jared kept giving you as you approached the little group. They whispered to each other, giggling like little gossips before Jake gave them the darkest look you'd ever seen to shut them up. You ignored their odd behaviour but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going on.

Before you could ask anyone about it, Paul announced the food was ready, and slowly the small crowd went over to fill their plates. After filling up yours with more food than you could ever ingest, Jake guided you to his friends with one hand on the small of your back. Its iridescent presence you could never ignore made shivers run down your spine. Small touches like this one were becoming more and more familiar between the two of you. Even so, you didn’t think you would ever get used to the delicious warmth it always spread in your body.

You all sat around the fire, eating merrily the food Emily prepared and as you joked with everyone, you were once again surprised by how comfortable you felt around them all. How natural it felt for you to be with them. To sit by Jake's side, his thigh pressed against yours as if any space between your bodies was intolerable.

You were caught in a conversation with Seth, the sound of laughter and excited conversation filling your ears. Jake’s presence by your side made you feel so content and safe. Until one minute you were laughing with Seth, and the next you felt Jacob getting up. "Everything okay?" you asked. You didn't hear what was said but were aware that he was talking with Quil and that their tone had gotten heated before abruptly stopping.

"Yeah, just gonna get something to drink." he curtly answered.

You gave him a quick smile, knowing by the expression on his face he was not okay. Which was later confirmed by the way he sat next to you but kept a very noticeable distance. You didn't comment on it, not wanting to make a scene, but when you focused on your plate again hunger had completely left you.

"Hey, don't mind him, Y/n. Quil's an idiot," whispered Seth.

You looked at him with question marks in your eyes. "Oh, sorry, I thought you heard what he said. Uhm, he just said something about how you and Jake acted like a couple."

You turned your head in Jake's direction, but despite your pointed stare, his eyes would not drift in your direction. You analyzed the distance between the two of you, feeling a sharp pain in your heart. That would explain Quil and Jared’s odd behaviour earlier and the death stare Jacob had given them. You had thought it was simply because he didn’t want them to tease you. Now, you had the sinking feeling his reaction was due to another reason completely.

The night merrily carried on until late, the elders had gone home and it was only the pack and you left around the fire. The joyous heat had simmered to hot embers, encouraging you to scoot closer, chasing the warmth.

Jake kept looking over at you, an ounce of worry in his dark eyes. He was still far away, not making eye contact or talking with you. Your frustration at his distant behaviour had only grown during the night but when he suddenly signaled for you to follow him and walked towards his car you followed without hesitation. You looked at him open the door, fetching something on his seat, and back out. He walked closer and handed you his coat.

"I saw you shivering. Thought you could use this." His tone was low and even here, alone and away from the group he avoided your eyes. You stared at the piece of clothing in your hands, more confused than you'd ever been. A petty part of you, angry at him for acting so distant wanted to refuse and walk away. But the part of you that was freezing its ass off couldn't refuse the perspective of more warmth.

You wrapped it around your shoulders as you looked at him. "So this is what this is about. You only wanted to give me this?" His failure to answer only made you sigh deeper with annoyance. "I'm so confused, Jake." You didn't have to add anything, from the way he looked at you and the sigh he let out, you knew he knew. "You've been acting so weird but keep behaving like nothing's going on. Tonight, I mean, what is that? I come here, you look happy to see me. Then suddenly Quil says some dumb shit and you get as far away from me as possible. What's up with that? Are you ashamed? Is that what this is?"

He sharply looked up from the ground. An animal light fired up his eyes. "I would and will never feel ashamed of being with you. Never."

"Then what's going on? Tell me. Ever since that night, you've been acting differently."

You had reached a new level of intimacy in your friendship that night a month ago. You both shared private information, deciding to trust and rely on each other. But that night, there were also a lot of secrets still kept.

"Y/n I- I can't."

"Can't what? Jake, tell me. I can weather it. Whatever it is."

His body shook under the intensity. He seemed to be fighting his whole self to get the words out. Then it clicked. You remembered a year ago when you'd seen him in such a state. When he started his transformation, Sam had forbidden him from telling you. You only discovered his secret when you infiltrated his house and found him half wolf, half human in the most terrifying process you had ever seen. Your blood started boiling in your veins.

"Are you fucking kidding me? This, again?" You turned to look at the people gathered around the fire a few meters away. Your gaze zoomed in on its target. Sam, laughing with Emily sitting at his side. "I'm done with this."

You stormed over to the bonfire and planted yourself in front of the leader. Sam looked up at you with a laid-back smile which quickly disappeared when he noticed you were fuming with rage.

"Y/n, is everything okay?" he carefully asked, then he looked back at Jacob running up behind you. A shadow passed in his gaze.

"You know what's wrong. You're doing it again. This is the thing I hate the most about your powers, Sam. Taking away someone's right to talk is wrong. Especially when it puts him in pain." You pointed to Jake, not taking your eyes away from Sam. You heard Jacob mumbling for you to calm down and let it go, but ignored him. "This needs to end."

"Y/n..." he started. You noticed the complete silence surrounding you and the tense look he kept giving Jacob.

Sam was an honest guy. He was a great leader who always took responsibility and ownership of his actions. The fact that he wasn't saying anything wasn't like him at all. He had never tried to deny the orders he gave in the past. Realization shook your core as you felt a deep sadness pierce your stomach. "You're not the one who asked Jake not to tell me anything." You turned to look at your friend, the truth written on his face. "You asked him."

His failure to answer was the only confirmation you needed. A storm of thoughts and emotions took control of your senses. Dread, dismay and then burning rage took hold of your brain. "Why." The simple word sounded harsh and rough coming from your mouth.

"Y/n, please let it go," he begged in a whisper.

"This is so dramatic for nothing. I don't get what's the big deal and why he would ever ask that," you heard someone mumble. Everyone turned to look at Quil, who froze under the sudden weight of the attention. "What? It's the truth. There's no reason he should ever want to hide that Y/n's..."

Faster than your human senses could comprehend Jacob had pounced on his friend. Throwing him off the seat he was in, he trapped him on the ground. Even if Quil was also a werewolf, there was no way he could ever fight Jacob off right now.

"You shut the fuck up. This has nothing to do with you." Jacob's voice sounded poisonous. Immediately, the other members got to their feet, ready to pull them apart. Jacob seemed like he was taller and meaner. Long gone was the sunshiney smile you loved so much. At that moment, he was more wolf than human. "This is my business. She is my business and no one else."

Everybody looked at the ground, no one would cross eyes with you. The sound of his voice when he uttered these words, the way his body seemed to be angled to protect you even if he was a few feet away. You had seen this behavior before and had observed it a thousand times in Sam's behavior toward Emily or in Paul's toward Rachel. Another realization hit you like the impact of a collision between two asteroids.

Your eyes were fixed on Jacob’s back, still turned to you. Even then, you could feel it. You always knew. Some part of you always knew. That bond between the two of you was stronger than just love or friendship. It was destined, you were two parts of the same soul.

You staggered, feeling light-headed, when a gentle touch at your elbow stabilized you. Emily stood beside you, helping you stay collected and brushing your back with comforting strokes.

"Breathe Y/n." You barely heard her but listened to her words. Fresh air filled your lungs and steadied you. You looked back at Jacob who had immediately released Quil when he saw your reaction. Worry was written on his face. You hoped he could read the fury written on yours.

You walked up to him and stopped when you were barely inches away. For the first time that night, Jacob looked thrown off. You searched his eyes before you started screaming. "YOU IDIOT?? WHY WOULD YOU NOT WANT ME TO KNOW I'M YOUR IMPRINT? YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TRY AND FORBID ME TO KNOW THAT." You stepped back, and turned on yourself, grabbing at your hair like a mad woman. "I can't BELIEVE you hid that from me. I can't believe you tried to do that. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? WHAT IS SO WRONG WITH ME? Is this what it is? You don't want to be with me? The thought of being with me was so abhorrent that you asked your leader to FORBID you from telling me?"

Your eyes filled to the brim with angry tears as you confronted him. He chuckled, a dry thing, devoid of any real amusement. "How can you even say that? Now I am an asshole for wanting you to have a choice? For wanting you not to feel obliged to be with me because of some ancient wolf thing? For wanting you to have a choice to escape this life you would have with me?" His eyes were feverish, a particular kind of pain shining in them.

"What- what do you even mean?"

"After what happened to you, I didn't want you to feel tied to me, the reason you were almost killed. That's something I can never change Y/n. Danger and threat will follow me wherever I go." His shoulders slumped miserably. "It's not fair of me to profit from the imprinting process to have you with me. To have you be with someone like me."

There was no sound except for the singing crickets in the night and the sound of the fire softly dying out.

"Jake..." His words extinguished any fire in your chest. You understood better than anyone else the feeling of wanting to protect someone you cared about. You delicately took his face in your hands, "Jacob Black. I want you to understand this and get it through your thick skull. That was not your fault. None of this is. No matter what happened, I... I wouldn't change it. The night of the incident, I remember how happy I was walking to you and the rest of the pack." At that, you looked with love and respect at all the members still surrounding you.

"You can't say that," he whispered painfully, tears in his chocolate eyes. You exhaled and forced his chin up so he'd look at you. "I mean it. I knew you were at Emily's and I know I would still make the same choice of walking over there to be with you. There are no other possible options for me when it comes to you. I need to be where you are."

The atmosphere changed and the other members took it as their exit signal and left you two under the stars. A soft light illuminated his eyes as he looked at you. "How could you ever think I wouldn't want to be with you?" You felt his hands warm your cold cheeks. "Are you really that blind? It's always been you, Y/n. You've changed the trajectory of my life from the moment I laid eyes on you. Even before the wolf stuff, I always knew you were the one for me. I love you Y/n."

A warm fuzzy feeling spread from your head to your toes as you listened to the soft timber of his voice in the cold night. Nothing else mattered at that moment, it was only you and him and the confession he just shared with you.

"So you asked Sam to forbid you from telling me so I could have a choice?"

He nodded, "I didn't trust myself to keep the secret, I can't keep anything from you. If you want to be with me, I want it to be because you... love me, not because you feel you have to respect some ancient wolf thing ritual." You heard his hesitation to utter the word love. Even after all the time you had spent together, doubt and fear still had their claws embedded in his brain.

"You say I must be blind not to have seen your feelings for me, but I'd say you aren't better. Ever since we were kids, it has always been you. The boy who made mud pies with me. My best friend. The person who supported me through everything. The man. The werewolf. You, in all your forms, Jacob. I am yours, and I think I have always been."

He let out a shaky breath, his dark eyes transfixed on your face, his hands limp at his side. He nervously licked his lips, "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded imperceptibly, the rhythm of your own heart accelerating as he bent down. You felt his soft breath fan over your lips and waited patiently until his plush lips met yours. This new contact solidified something inside of your chest, the bond connecting the two of you seemed to tighten, a clear presence you couldn’t ignore anymore. You melted completely into his embrace when his strong arms wrapped around your body, holding you up as your knees wobbled under the intensity of the moment.

You were home. You had found him. Your forever.

Your Jacob.

-

taglist: @tgarrett26 @twilightlover2007 @butterclove

[emilykaldwen]

The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Twenty-Two

Rating: Explicit Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty | Chapter Twenty-One

AO3 LINK

Author's Note: I started a new job and promptly got bronchitis for two weeks, was fine for a week, then covid. I LIVED BITCH! and my brain is mostly working.

all my undying love to @vampire-exgirlfriend who will never let me drown in this story. Your reacts for this were amazing (Aegon wants them to be old people in matching windbreakers, it is known). Also, many many thanks to @selfproclaimedunicorn for all the talking, the giggling, the gluck gluck 3000, just… thank you. Thank you for being you. ANOTHER thanks to @darkwolf76

for your eyes on the first half of this chapter and loving House Strong as much as I do.

Thank you to SelfProclaimedUnicorn for letting me borrow Cassana AND MOMMY AND DADDY YORICK AND SHIREEN and Rhea Royce my beloved, and Darkwolf76 for allowing me to borrow Deirdre and sweet baby Dyana. Please check out their work!

Also, there's River Tongue in the second section of this chapter, but no translations because Abby doesn't understand it. Something Something we're touching upon the eradication of irish culture under the british. I said what I said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - Do We Get What We Deserve?

The outer bailey was bustling with the mid-morning crowd, the banners of Runestone flapping from the back of two wheelhouses that were settled in front of the hall. Larys said something about their cousin, Cassana, having arrived. Aegon recalled that one of Ser Simon’s granddaughters was married to the lord’s younger brother. House Royce was a far friendlier kin to House Strong, it appeared.

Abby was there, being embraced by a soft featured, robust young woman with dark curls and a smiling face that reflected the rest of the Strongs. There was a tall man, dark blonde and kitted in shades of purple and bronze, a half cape slung about him like a knight from a story beside a comely woman who could only be his wife, given their matching outfits. Aegon considered this, as Abby already seemed to cleverly sneak in the embroidery of Sunfyre on her gowns. Maybe they could start matching, like the horses.

“Your Grace, Lord Larys.” Ser Simon’s voice interrupted Aegon’s internal adventure down a road where he and Abby had matching dragon coronets to receive the Royce party. “Lord Yorick Royce, and his wife, Lady Shireen Baratheon, are here as Lady Jeyne Arryn’s official representatives.”

The bow Lord Yorick gave was flawless, tightly controlled and not over the top, nor was his wife’s curtsy overly exhibitionist. There was a difference in the Vale chivalry than that of the Reach. Aegon supposed it might be because life in the Vale was harder, what with the mountains and all that came with it.

“Well met, my lord, my lady.” Aegon inclined his head in turn, smiling. “Tales of your deeds in the Stepstones are still told at court. I hope to see you in my wedding tournament?”

Lord Yorick’s beard was slightly darker than his hair, flecks of gray peaking through. Many of the men had beards and Aegon was beginning to feel like he should give his own a go. He was unshaven that morning, his own stubble scratchy along his jaw. Certainly he could grow a fine beard.

“You honor me, Prince Aegon,” the other man said, a slight smile on his face and a glance down at the brighter smile of his wife, her hands wrapped comfortably around his bicep. “If you are not competing, then I shouldn’t feel so bad being able to crown my wife the Queen of Love and Beauty.”

“We heard your own nameday duel went quite well, Your Grace,” Lady Shireen complimented, and Aegon’s ears flushed red. “A wonderful debut.”

“It is my wedding and I don’t think I’d be forgiven for getting a gauntlet to the face and having my sweet lady play nursemaid as a start to our marriage.” Aegon shrugged, a lazy grin on his face. It earned the chuckles and amusement he’d been looking for.

“Playing a little nursemaid can sometimes ease the nerves,” Lady Shireen leaned a little closer, her deep blue eyes bright with mischief. Aegon could see the slight glimmers of resemblance between the lady and that of her niece, Cassandra, but the lady of Runestone lacked the predatory look that the younger woman held. Lady Shireen’s edges were softer in a way that reminded him of the hazy memories of Aunt Celeste, and even Abby in some of her more confident moments.

Aegon was very conscious not to let his eyes fall below the woman’s face.

Lord Yorick’s own cheeks flushed lightly, but he shrugged with a raised eyebrow in agreement. “There’s plenty of time for the prince to be given advice on his marital duties. We’ve been on the road since dawn, and I could use a bath.” They departed with courtesies exchanged and Aegon approached Abby who was giving a final embrace to her cousin.

“Deidre will be in the gardens with little Dyana,” she told Cassana. “And Morya has Gwenys as well.”

Aegon’s hand snaked out to grab her wrist and tug her over to him, automatically snaking his arms around her waist and pressing his face into the loose curls around her shoulders, half her hair woven in a braided knot at the crown of her head.

“Aegon,” she breathed.

He didn’t know if it was a protest or relief and he simply squeezed her tighter and pressed his lips to her pulse. It was easier to push away everything else that plagued him and sickened him when he was here with her. A tonic to his raw wounds, Aegon let himself drift into the clean scent of earthy rose and red currant perfume oil and soap.

“Did you eat?”

Her frustrated sigh was low in his ear, her hands pressing against his shoulders even if she wasn’t pushing him away. “Did you tell Wylla to make sure I did, or was that simply her being her usual bossy self?”

“I might have mentioned something in passing, but the gods know she won’t take orders from me.” But they had reached an understanding between themselves, in recognizing that they needed to make sure Abrogail Strong did not run herself empty as she was wont to do.

She tilted her head back and her fingers curled in his jacket. He knew he smelled of dragon and rain but she didn’t appear to mind. Her freckles were stark against her pale face and he took in the dark smudges beneath her eyes, but her cheeks were flushed with excitement, and so he did not worry overly much.

“Lord Elmo and some of the other river lords are here to discuss our marriage contract,” Abby said softly. “I think it took the queen and the lord hand by surprise.”

“Larys told me.” Aegon nodded towards the slow moving figure moving in the direction of the tower where his father and the royal household were put up. Abby moved to tuck her cool hand in the crook of his elbow, her other holding the blue wool cloak more tightly closed around her throat. It was a bit chilly that morning, although Aegon’s blood ran too hot to usually notice. “Elmo thinks I’ve come to take his paramount seat from him and feed him to Sunfyre.”

“I think he would still be upset even without the dragon,” she murmured. She’d told him of the rumors she’d heard during his feast, about how some of the lords were upset with the idea of a Targaryen encroaching onto their land. Which Aegon thought was utterly ridiculous. Abby had pointed out that when a Targaryen came into the Riverlands, they tended to conquer or cause other trouble. His gaze flicked to the melted towers high above them—the hubris and legacy of men come and gone long before him. “If someone is displeased with his ruling, then what’s to stop them from coming to you as a representative of the crown?”

“They just assume I’d hear them and not just send them on their merry way,” he scoffed with a bitter note to his voice. She squeezed his arm.

“It doesn’t matter, Aegon. It’s the perception of it. The implied threat. Not to mention the succession. If you’re seen as a figure in the Riverlands over the Tullys, that would change things.” As always, Abrogail was right when he let himself listen to her explanations. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t discussed it before, a plate of honey and cream cakes between them, her hands occupied with sewing while he fed her and himself. Still, he rolled his eyes, dragging his booted foot back and forth over the gravel and kicking up rocks.

“They’re already calling our wedding The Second Great Council,” Aegon sneered. “They’re all so eager to force such ambitions upon me.”

“Tis foul,” Abby returned with her own disgust. “At least we know what we’re up against.” Aegon’s chest warmed with her ‘we’ mention and he ghosted a kiss against her temple. The guards at the door to the tower bowed their heads and opened the heavy doors, whitewashed to hide the scars from the fire.

“We do,” Aegon murmured, shifting his arm to wrap around her shoulders and keep her close to him as they ventured into the tower where her family had perished. She trembled lightly beneath his touch and he gripped her arm, thumb stroking against the round of her shoulder. She was doing so well, holding herself together. He would give her what strength he had.

The hum of conversation could be heard as they headed down the hallway, the inner windows allowing the torchlight into the interior in lieu of outer windows.

“I hate the name,” Abby muttered, “Tower of Dread.”

“Then we’ll change it along with whatever other name changes you wish to make.” He raised his eyebrows at her, making a silly face, and Abby scrunched her nose as amusement pulled at her pretty mouth.

She was straight as an arrow as she walked, years of lessons pulling her spine rigid and tilting her chin just so. It was a facsimile of his own mother’s posture when faced with those who would underestimate her. Regal. Elegant.

Aegon dropped his arm from around her shoulders to stroke the spill of curls down her back before offering his arm to her so she could hold onto that instead of gripping her own hands so tightly about her waist he thought she might break her fingers. His own heart hammered in his chest, to be faced with all these lords and know that each moment in that room was a different level of judgment and assessment than he’d received those months before. Aegon had gotten on well with the men at the feast, plying them with fine wine and bawdy stories. He was good at that sort of thing; it’s when things became formal and full of layers that he didn’t understand that he struggled with.

“You’ll do well,” she whispered.

He pressed a quick kiss to her hair. “We’ll do well.” There was no doing this without her; he didn’t even want to try.

The second set of heavy wooden doors were opened, these ones newer than the others, to reveal the circular hall and the blazing fire in the great hearth that was taller than a man and just as ornately carved as the one in the Kingspyre tower. Some of the plaster frescoes high above them were patchy in places, revealing where new plaster had been replaced but not yet painted. There were tapestries similar to the ones in the other tower, these depicting hunting scenes along rivers and through weirwood forests. Aegon was distracted momentarily by one depicting women with flowing hair reaching out through the rivers, fish fins along their arms.

The table in the hall was enormous; a great wheel of wood cut from one of those great red oaks in the forest. Seated here, all were on the same level. There was no head of table, even if Queen Alicent sat in the mostore ornate chair there. It was the only denotation of status.

“Where is the king?” Aegon inquired of Grand Maester Orwyle. Mellos had retired back to Oldtown at the close of the nameday festivities to live out his last days in quiet. Aegon had felt relief at the change; the younger maester was far easier to deal with and didn’t look at him with rheumy eyes full of disdain.

Orwyle inclined his head to both of them, his hands folded beneath the large, gray sleeves of his robe and his maester chain clinking. “He is recovering from the long journey. He has bid the queen and Hand to handle these discussions Lord Elmo has…” The man trailed off, lips pressed together in disapproval, but of what specifically, Aegon didn’t know. “Found need of. It is good that you are both here.”

It was a surprising statement of encouragement that left Aegon momentarily stunned, Abby’s fingers curling into the leather of his riding jacket he still hadn’t changed out of. There hadn’t been time and it wasn’t as if Larys had brought a change of shirt for him. No matter. They were so concerned about his dragon and his title, let them be aware of it. His riding leathers were made of supple black leather with scalloped detailing along the shoulders and down his arms that looked like dragon scales. There was a shimmer in the leather when the light caught on it that gave the iridescent glimmer of gold from the gold thread stitching, and the buttons were gold as well, stamped with dragons. The lining was a fine, deep green and gold wool brocade, and the inside of the neck and his cuffs were a soft shearling lining. High in the sky, even his dragon blood could only do so much, and the garment would prove too warm soon enough. He was already tugging at the stamped buttons with his free hand, his other arm still clutched by Abby.

“Good morrow, my lords,” he called out with every ounce of mustered levity he could, leading Abby towards the vacant chairs on his mother’s right side. “Morning, Lord Hand,” he greeted his grandfather, who stood to Mother’s left, hand resting on the back of his chair. He leaned down to ghost a kiss upon his mother’s cheek, feeling her startle. “Mother, you look well rested.”

“Good morning, Aegon.” Mother’s dark brown eyes widened with surprise, an uncertain smile gracing her lovely face. “You were up early?”

“Nothing like beginning the day on dragonback and greeting Prince Daemon upon his arrival,” Aegon said, a brief, close lipped smile on his face before pulling out the chair to his left for Abby to sit in, and taking the seat immediately to his mother’s side. “It’s good that I returned as early as I did. Lord Elmo! It’s wonderful to see you again, as well as the other familiar faces here.” He grinned brightly at the assembly all while sick sloshed in his gut, the ribbon around his ribs tightening with the edges of panic. A servant poured him a goblet of weak wine.

Lord Elmo Tully was tall and deceptively broad, his coat a deep, dark blue with scarlet, four strand braids that looked like fishbones along his shoulders, red trim along his wrists. As he drew closer, Aegon noticed the buttons along the front of his coat were in the shape of fish, and the brocade pattern along the hem were also stamped in silver scale print. His face was tanner than when he saw him last; clearly a man who preferred riding horseback instead of a wheelhouse.

Handsome, to be certain, and Aegon wouldn’t forget that Tully had also sought Abby’s hand. Regardless of what Larys said, Aegon couldn’t fathom that he was not bothered by losing out on the chance for her. It was foolish to think otherwise. And Aegon didn’t think he could blame her had she picked Lord Elmo Tully over him. Seven hells, Aegon would have picked Elmo Tully had he been in her place.

“Likewise, your Grace.” His voice was low and smooth, water over river stones. While some of the others looked visibly surprised by Aegon’s entrance, other’s did not, and it appeared that Elmo Tully was unflappable as they came. “Although I know this conversation will be a complicated one. As I was stating to Lord Otto and her grace, vassals of mine have come forward with concerns over the past few months and I’m inclined to agree with them.”

His bright eyes cut away to look at Larys who was seated beside his grandfather. Aegon watched him settle comfortably in his chair.

“I must confess, I am confused as to why a contract that is not only approved by the crown, but by our Lord Paramount, Lord Grover Tully, is now suddenly drawn into question, and additionally, why my fellow lords are viewing myself in such a light.” Larys folded his hands on the table in front of him, a glance towards the Tower beside him. “I understand a certain amount of skepticism was raised by some, but as a beloved member of the queen’s household, my sweet sister-”

“There is no record of Lady Abrogail’s wardship under Queen Alicent,” Elmo Tully cut in, the room silent as his deep voice echoed across the large table. “House Tully had first right as your liege lord, Strong. Your father stated he was not interested in warding the girl.”

“Extenuating circumstances, Lord Elmo,” Otto Hightower did not raise his voice, but it carried to every part of the room. Aegon reached for his goblet and sipped from it to hide his confusion, wishing he had bread and some kind of meat to settle the alcohol in his gut from the night before. Larys hadn’t mentioned anything about Abby’s wardship during the carriage ride. Beside him, Abby was still, but her hand reached beneath the table to rest on his knee. It was purely comfort; for him or her, Aegon didn’t know, but he dropped his free hand down to tap two fingers against the back of hers in reassurance. “Lord Lyonel Strong was a member of the king’s Small Council, his wife, my niece, and the queen’s first cousin.”

“In addition,” Mother continued with a look of disapproval that he knew well and was grateful not to be under, “I had helped raise the girl since she was a babe. It was agreed between Lord Larys and myself that to remove her from my care would further upset her after all she had already endured. There was no reason to rip her from everything she knew.”

Aegon watched the eyes around the table swivel to look at Abby beside him and he turned their hands beneath the table so he could hold hers. Her fingers were cold and he gripped them tight.

“Abrogail had served as a companion to Princess Helaena since they were young girls,” Larys spoke, his words slow and deliberate. “The crown did not purchase her wardship before our father died, nor after, because I did not sell it.”

“Her ward price was nearly a thousand gold dragons!” Elmo snapped, his jaw ticking. “A portion of which would be paid to House Tully as your liege lord.”

“And the greater portion to House Targaryen, your liege lord,” Mother said sharply, the reprimand subtle but clear. “Are you upset, my lord, that your house lost income in this deal you’ve imagined having taken place?” Elmo’s nostrils flared. Mother frowned and waved to the servant closest to her. “It is early, and we have only just arrived. Please bring light refreshment. I think we could all use a bit of something to eat. I did not have time to properly break my fast this morning.”

Abby relaxed beside him and Aegon felt his stomach rumble as within moments plates were brought in and platters of freshly carved ham and steaming loaves of fresh bread were brought in. A sweet porridge with honey and molasses, morsels of dried fruit tucked inside, was set in front of them.

“You need to eat,” he murmured, spooning some of the porridge onto her plate along with a piece of ham. He helped himself to the crusty bread and slathered the red currant preserves across it, licking a bit from his thumb. He leaned over and whispered, “You are worth far more than a measly thousand dragons.” Abby scoffed but she picked up her spoon to take little bites.

Aegon looked to his mother who was helping herself to a piece of bread with delicate bites, and he realized that she had planned this. Larys had not spoken of Abby’s wardship, only of Aegon and Sunfyre being a threat. To get Tully on the defensive and make him look like his only issue with everything was due to money, not the perception that Aegon was here to cause trouble for him. Aegon looked at the other lords around the table, filing away his realization to think about later.

Elmo Tully’s face was no longer flushed with frustration. In King’s Landing, the man had been quiet, observant, but he’d also been with his father, who was the ruling lord. He leaned in conference with Lord Piper beside him, nodding quietly before straightening.

“Clearly there is much confusion that needs to be clarified for the peace of our vassals,” Elmo began again, his jaw no longer clenched and a slightly more relaxed curve to his shoulders. “Many have been under the ugly assumption that the laws of wardship were not followed. As we all know, the practice of warding our precious children is what helps keep the peace, strengthens ties, and ultimately serves our houses and the realm.”

“I completely agree with you, Lord Elmo,” Mother smiled her tight lipped smile that brought the youthful light back to her face. Elmo averted his eyes briefly and Aegon’s own narrowed a touch at the man’s reaction. “I can assure you, Lady Abrogail was never my official ward, although there are those who used the term for ease of explanation. She served as my daughter’s much loved companion, and I imparted the knowledge I had to her future role as a Lady just as I did when her mother was alive.” She let the silence hang with an expectant look.

Aegon noticed that neither his mother nor Elmo Tully offered any apology to one another.

“With that matter settled,” Otto said, wiping his fingers on a soft towel to be handed to the servant. “You made mention of several disturbing accusations towards the Crown that we felt were better discussed in casual conference behind closed doors than in the throne room in King’s Landing.”

“Several of my vassals expressed discomfort with Houses Bracken and Blackwood as well as House Tully being called before the Small Council. Additionally, this summons was then accompanied by the announcement that the king’s eldest son would be the next Lord of Harrenhal.” Elmo pushed his half empty plate to the side, the last bite of crusty bread abandoned. ‘A travesty,’ Aegon thought, and popped the last piece of his bread into his mouth. It was a little too big, his cheeks puffed slightly around it, but there was no choice but to commit. Now he was keeping up with the information Larys had given him. So not only did Elmo, who was pretending to be the acting Lord over his dying father, believe that Aegon was coming for his seat, but he also clearly believed that House Targaryen had what? Stolen Abby? Held her hostage to take her claim?

Aegon’s gaze flicked to his mother and grandfather briefly, but both their faces were impassive, schooled features impossible to tell what it was they were thinking.

“To be clear on the concern,” came the rasping voice of Lord Piper from Elmo’s right. The lord was older, thin as a reed, his graying brown hair curled around his ears and neck. “The Brackens and Blackwoods will tear each other apart any chance they get. It is an issue that myself and fellow houses are concerned about. We were fortunate that under his Grace, King Jaehaerys, peace had been brokered. With the wedding of Lord Bracken’s daughter to House Karstark and the discussions held in the capital, tensions appear to have eased. Some feel that this was the decision behind this marriage, and the presence of the crown in the Riverlands.”

The quiet after the statement was uncomfortable, and Aegon coughed as he swallowed his piece of bread. That also matched with what Abby had said Lythene Ryger had told her all those months ago. He ventured a look to his bride. Her face was pale except for the splotches of bright color in her cheeks, her rosebud mouth pursed with discomfort.

“Then allow me to gladly free you of these misconceptions, my lords,” Mother said, her chin tilted up and her gaze meeting each lord and lady in turn before finally landing on Elmo Tully. Her elbows rested on the arms of the ornate chair, hands folded loosely in front of her. She was utterly relaxed now and Aegon found himself mimicking the posture, even if he felt nervous and on edge. The food in his belly helped. He could feel Abby’s anxieties from her place beside him as keenly as if they were his own. She needed him to be calm. She needed his strength. His mother needed him to be reasonable. He could do this. “During Lord Lyonel’s time as Hand of the King, he and the king had discussed this betrothal. I had also discussed this betrothal with him on numerous occasions. Harrenhal had nothing to do with these conversations. Unless there’s the implication that he had a premonition of what was to happen here…”

The air rushed from his lungs, accompanied by a surprising sense of relief. Instinct compelled him to lift Abby’s hand and press a light kiss to her knuckles, holding her hand in both of his for a moment. She was finally starting to warm up and he looked to see her tension ease and finally relax back in her chair, if only a little.

Elmo Tully held Mother’s gaze for a long time, their eyes locked in some sort of silent conversation or contest, Aegon could not be sure.

“This idea that the crown would overstep themselves and park a dragon on your doorstep over squabbling houses is ludicrous, Lord Elmo,” his grandfather finally said. “We understand how the perception could have come about. Those who wish to sew discontent will always look for nooks and crannies to slither through.”

“No?” Elmo asked mildly, an arch of his brow as he propped his arms on his elbows, large hands folded in front of him. He wore no rings on his fingers, Aegon noticed. “Law states that through her marriage, Harrenhal will become Prince Aegon’s. He is not bringing lands to this marriage and instead, Lady Abrogail’s dowry is providing everything in this union. Seven protect her, should she pass without issue, Harrenhal becomes the prince’s… and then the lands will eventually pass to the crown.”

The implication was clear. Aegon was still the eldest son. Should Viserys change his mind on matters of succession and Aegon named King, then Harrenhal, its income and lands would pass from the Riverlands and become part of the Crownlands.

“The prince is bringing a dragon to the marriage,” his grandfather’s voice was equally mild, even amused.

“Should Prince Aegon pass without issue, Harrenhal will still be in the hands of my sister,” Larys spoke, reaching for his goblet. “It will not default to the crown, nor the prince’s next of kin. Abrogail will maintain her hold.”

“And what is to prevent the crown from simply marrying her to another one of the king’s sons?” Lord Mudd spoke this time. It was the conversation that his father hated and could only happen with him still abed. Aegon instinctively felt the prickle of anxiety and the shortness of breath that came when discussions that edged on the succession, as well as the terrible idea that Abby would just be given to Aemond or Daeron. Daeron was just a boy and the idea of Aemond and Abrogail in that way made Aegon’s blood boil, teeth aching to snap his jaw around his brother’s throat and rip it out. It didn’t matter if Aemond was betrothed, or if he didn’t covet Abby in the least. The mere thought of it incensed him.

She belonged to him, and to think her alone and vulnerable without him had Aegon threading his fingers through hers, the closest he could come to splitting open his ribs and trapping her inside where she’d be warm and protected, worth more than a thousand gold dragons or this castle or her inheritance.

Abby squeezed his hand with both of hers, thumb stroking along the back of his hand and he looked down at her. She was there, he was there. The tension eased only some.

“And should Lady Abrogail pass in childbirth without issue?” Posed Tully this time. Aegon thought he was going to be sick at the thought of it. The talk of all this death, hers and his, it hung over him like a specter, as if it were an unspoken wish. “Prince Aegon would hold ownership-”

“I do find it interesting how we are so quick to assume that I will die within a month of their marriage and not live a long life,” Larys cut in, a placid smile on his face. “It is only a deformed foot that I live with, not palpitations of the heart or fever or grayscale…” He trailed off with a wave of his hand. Tully and Lord Mudd both shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Beside him, Mother lifted her goblet and he could see the amusement on her face that she was trying to hide. Larys’ words were enough to cut through the tension and Aegon huffed out a snort. Abby giggled quietly beside him.

“Apologies, Lord Larys,” Elmo said. “But these are important discussions.”

“And the assumption that I myself would not have also thought of and worked out with the final negotiations?” Larys Strong shook his head, lips pursed. For a man who did not speak often, he had slid into the moment well. “I must say, the lack of faith you appear to have in me not only as a lord of a holding, but a member of the Small Council, and your direct vassal are fully on display and I am concerned that if these things were shared by Lord Grover, that it was never brought up during the prince’s celebrations.”

Once more, Aegon saw that Larys Strong had Elmo Tully on the back foot in front of several of the houses in attendance. There was no illusion to the privacy of this conference. Not from the servants in attendance, nor from the lords and ladies who would discuss this with others. He wondered if this was normal discussion between vassals and their lords. The mediation between Houses Bracken and Blackwood with House Tully in attendance had gone differently. His mother had defended House Tully when certain implications had come up. It was exhausting to watch and process, and Aegon felt like they were circling.

Elmo’s face hardened. “Lord Strong, you leave the running of Harrenhal to your castellian. You have not been in the Riverlands for any extended period of time since before your father took office as Master of Laws and later Hand of the King. I correspond more frequently with Ser Simon than I have with you until recently. What am I left to assume of you, my lord?”

“To be asked to serve the realm is the highest honor, Lord Elmo, and I do not regret my position, and neither did my father. Each raven sent to Harrenhal is reviewed and passed onto myself where my replies are sent directly to House Tully. I do not know the workings of the paramount house, and I am disinclined to assume anything, as it serves none. Your concern and those of my fellow vassals are noted, and our great queen and Lord Otto have been nothing but above board in our negotiations between the prince and my sister.” He inclined his head in the direction of Mother and grandfather, who returned the gesture. “Queen Alicent and her father work tirelessly with the king and any concerns that you have with his Grace's choices and decisions should be brought up directly with him.”

Silence filled the room once more and Aegon looked at Elmo Tully, stone faced and displeased at the failure of whatever outcome he’d been hoping for.

“Your concerns for Lady Abrogail are well intentioned, Lord Elmo,” Mother said. “And you do well to bring the concerns your vassals have to us, although I do wish we had discussed these sooner, and not on the eve of my son’s wedding.” The gentle rebuke was a statement of the obvious and she leaned back in her seat. “The assumptions made that the crown would engage in duplicitous behavior to undermine the sacred agreement between vassals and their liege lords will not be taken to heart and will be left at this table. I can also assure you, Lord Elmo, and your fellow lords, as well as Lord Tully, that the king and I thought long about this betrothal. The king had discussed this previously with Lord Strong and subsequently the new Lord Strong, and was happy to join our families. If there are further concerns, then when his Grace has recovered from the journey, we will be more than happy to discuss any lingering concerns. Are there?”

“Lord Mallister isn’t here because of Ironborn ships spotted near the Cape of Eagles.” It was Lord Ryger’s turn to speak up now. “They raided a few of the villages along the bay last year.”

“Then a dragon here in the Riverlands will be helpful,” Aegon declared with a grin. Not that he was happy about burned villages, but they were much further from his mind than this prime opening. “King’s Landing is but a few hours flight from here, so I would imagine the Cape of Eagles would be similar. It could be enough to scare them off.”

A murmur washed through the room, the tone much different than the distrustful gazes and whispers that held them only moments before. It didn’t matter if Elmo Tully and the other lords believed his mother and grandfather or not. Aegon had seen the opening to something that mattered far more: the safety and protection of these people. Flush with finding his way, Aegon stood, chair scraping across the flagstone, and tugged his riding leathers off. It was much too hot and sweat had started gathering along the nape of his neck. He rested a hand along the back of Abby’s chair, his body inclined towards hers.

“I understand your concerns, and I have listened to them in earnest. If you can be reassured of my commitment to your house, Lord Elmo, and to our fellow houses, then take this thusly. Our children will be of the Riverlands. I am as much invested in the safety and wellbeing and protection of these lands from the Ironborn and whomever else chooses to attempt to press advantage. I swear myself to this. And if there are still sore feelings over… whatever happened in the past in regards to wardship, then I would happily ward one of your sons, Lord Elmo. My younger brother, Daeron, would benefit from boys his own age, as he will be here squiring for my uncle, Ser Gwayne.” Aegon tilted his head, catching Tully’s gaze with a slight smile. “Ser Harwin spoke positively of his time squiring with you at Riverrun in his youth.”

“He did,” Abby said, her voice soft but steady. “And perhaps we can discuss in the future one of our sons fostering with you at Riverrun. My father always reassured me of the ease the partnership between our houses had, and we would like to continue that tradition. I may have grown up away from here, but the rivers run through my blood; Harrenhal is my home. Our people are my kin. The prince speaks truly. Our children will be raised with the customs and traditions of our home, and Aegon and Sunfyre will fiercely protect the sanctity of our realm.”

Many heads were nodding and Elmo’s gaze pinned Aegon in place and he met it without hesitation. Whatever his mother and grandfather plotted, it was beyond Aegon’s knowing. What he did know was that he needed to prove himself to Elmo Tully and the Riverlords, and finally start ripping these assumptions that he was some eager villain set to usurp everyone in his path. He tried to convey that in his look, his hand dropping from the back of Abby’s chair to her shoulder, fingers curling protectively over her slim shoulder. He didn’t want the throne. He didn’t want Tully’s seat. Aegon wanted a home.

Abby, and Harrenhal, were what he wanted.

Abby sat still as Sarra Frey wound spring flowers into her hair and Lythene knelt before her, tracing blue ink along her hands and bared arms. The gown she wore had slashed sleeves, a style she did not often wear without tighter sleeves beneath and the cool air spread goosebumps along her skin. Coupled with the ticklish tracing of the cold woad, she was doing her best not to shiver too much.

“You all have strange customs,” Rhea Royce said, crunching into a juicy, red apple, the juice running down her chin and she swiped it away with the back of her hand. “Won’t that paint turn her blue for days?”

“They make you visit the Bronze Kings for blessings at Runestone,” Cousin Cassana pointed out with a laugh, handing over fussy little Dyana to her mother, her elder sister Deirdre. “You know how those crypts are. I still feel like I’m being watched.”

“Besides,” Deirdre added, cooing at her daughter. “Woad doesn’t stain, and most certainly won’t stand up with all the wedding preparations.”

“Ah yes.” It was Wylla’s turn now, knocking her foot against Rhea’s knee as she leaned against a moss and ivy covered stump at the edge of the blanket. “We’re making an Abby stew of hot water and goat milk. What could survive? Lythene, do you think we could go ahead and paint her all over? Is that a custom here?”

Abby rolled her eyes with a smile as the women around her laughed at the joke. “I am sitting right here,” she pointed out in mock exasperation. “I like this. It lets me feel closer to my family.” Her cousins would remember if her mother had partaken in the riverland custom. She knew, of course, that Aunt Mya certainly had, as did great-grandmother Sabitha. Mayhaps her grandmother, Addison Lefford, did as well, although she was also technically a Westerlander. Abby had been overly worried that she wouldn’t get this, that the queen would overrule it in the name of legitimacy for Aegon.

She might have, until Elmo Tully and the other banners sat at the great table the day before to accuse dragons of coming to feast on fish.

Sarra’s fingers snagged on a knot and Abby hissed at the painful pull while the other girl immediately apologized. “Almost done,” she promised.

“I’m nervous,” Abby said while Lythene finished the swirl up near her shoulder. The green gown was not the traditional blue of a Riverlands bride, and it wasn’t anywhere near the style that usually was done, but it had made do in a pinch and Abby did her best to ignore the pang of inadequacy that kept threatening to surge up. It was a low, little thrum in the back of her mind, telling her that she was a false thing, that she had no claim to a heritage she’d been taught to be proud of, for she had not spent long summer days in the fields chasing lambs or taking oaths and prayers beneath the weirwoods and the seven in the family godswood.

It was said that the Harrenhal godswood was the largest in the realm - even bigger than Winterfell’s, which Abby had a difficult time believing. Wylla had no answers to it, since it had been some time since she had seen her cousin, the now Lord Cregan, but said that Harrenhal’s was very large. It was as if a whole forest had been encased in the castle walls. Abby thought it more than a little strange, since Harren the Black had no issue in chopping down every remaining weirwood grove for leagues to build the fortress, yet he left this one standing and even protected. Was his wife a maiden of the Riverlands? Had she managed to appeal to some sliver of better nature to protect this one tree from being sacrificed to Harren’s hunger? This tree that was witness to the fall of crimson leaves and bone bark, chopped and stripped and brutalized and splashed with blood of their people.

Wylla tugged on her hand and pulled her from the spiral of thoughts that clouded what was meant to be the happiest of times. “You. Get over here.”

“I am,” she grumbled and allowed Wylla to pull her along, gripping her skirts to make their way through the untended and overgrown path. A stream ran through the godswood and Abby let the sound of rushing water push away the shadowy haze that her thoughts had turned to more frequently since they’d arrived. What a sour and unhappy bride they must think she was. Wylla tucked their arms in together and she relaxed into it after all the time apart, finding comfort in her friend and her unwavering spirit beside her. The other girls laughed ahead of them, Rhea lingering on her own as she took in the sights and the crunch of her apple. Cassana, Deirdre, and little Dyana followed a bit behind, the sister’s catching up after their years apart. She was not alone even if the presence of what was lost lingered in every birdsong and every shadow of the towers. “Father would not wish me sad,” Abby confessed for Wylla’s ears alone. “But I cannot help it.”

“Of course you can’t,” she said reasonably. “But he would not want his absence to hinder your joy. You are happy, aren’t you? If you are not, I will deal with Aegon myself.”

“Are you simply looking for an excuse to do so?” Abby teased and Wylla had the grace to flush at being caught out.

“No, not… he’s been better.”

“He has. And I do like to see the both of you getting along, even if it’s about minding me like I can’t take care of myself.” She shook her head but there was a warmth of fondness at their apparent arrangement. Abby did not need minding; she was capable of looking after herself, but it warmed her to know that they were looking after her as well. “I am happy - to answer your question. I trust the gods to ensure that athair knows of my happiness, and mother sees it too.” Abby rubbed her thumb against Wylla’s black and silver sleeve to reassure her and herself, and found that her mood had lightened as they trooped their way through the woods.

“Here we are,” Deirdre announced, bringing the group to a stop. They had followed the steam through the forest for a good quarter of an hour, the path clear if overgrown. Here they came to a stop, not quite at the heart tree. Abby would make the final trek herself. Her elder cousin came to her side, a soft smile on her face and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Go, a leanbh, and speak with them.”

Her hands shook and Abby wiped her palms along the green wool of her gown. Wylla squeezed her arm with encouragement and they parted for her, letting Abby push through the last of the trees on her own.

Past the oaks and the evergreen, the bone white boughs of the great heart tree rose up. The stream widened here into a pool at the foot of the weirwood. Abby’s arms exploded into goosebumps and a hard shiver rolled down her spine, like the rushing of the water over the moss covered rocks before her. It was larger than the one in King’s landing, twisted and broad, reaching as high as it could towards the sun above. Her eyes searched for a way to approach, as she did not have any little raft to cross the waters. She remembered warnings as a child to be careful of the stream as there were spots that were far deeper than they appeared. Finally, she found the sliver of forest floor that reached the tree and she crossed it, another shiver coursing over her as if she stepped through some sort of threshold.

Before her, the tree stood, ancient and all knowing, holding the spirits of all who came before them. Abby noticed, being this close, that none of the other trees came near, as if they knew the weirwood needed room in this captive place.

You’re alone.

The thought struck Abby like a crossbow bolt between her ribs and she blinked past the tears that filled her eyes. The weirwood tree was alone here and it must be so foolish of her to feel such empathy for it but she couldn’t help it.

“I have returned,” she said, dropping her skirts and staring up at the angry face of the tree. “I have been gone for so long I do not know if I remember the song of the rivers, but I know that it’s called me all these years.”

There was no answer. Of course there wasn’t, but she waited all the same, meeting the hateful eyes of the visage before her. It was no surprise to her that the weirwood looked angry. It had watched slaughter and pain. Helpless, the both of them were when it came to the protection of their family, and Abby felt the heat surge through her chest, the anger she so rarely gave into burning brightly in this moment.

“I can’t bring them back, and I wish I could make them pay for what they’ve done,” she cried and closed the distance to stand closer to the face. So close now, she could see the fissures in the bark and so clearly the red staining of the sap. “I can only vow to you, on my life and my children, that we will protect these lands from fire and salt, from the cruel reach of our enemies.”

These were not the blessings asked from a blushing bride. Abby didn’t know what feeling possessed her. She only knew the certainty that the weirwood’s loneliness and her own could not be bidden. They shared this thread, this lonely thread, and she inhaled sharply. “You called me all these years, didn't you? You are why this place has always felt like home to me when I had no answer for it, isn’t it?”

The leaves whispered in the wind.

The stream continued to rush.

Abby continued to meet the angry gaze of the weirwood staring back at her.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was gone for so long.” Abby took a step, pulling her skirts up to make sure she didn’t trip climbing over the large, gnarled and moss covered roots of the tree. Tentatively, she reached a hand out as if touching the face’s cheek. She was meant to be saying prayers and asking for blessings like the Children of the Forest were above her in the boughs, listening and taking note.

This felt more right. She didn’t understand why but only knew that it felt like whatever had drawn her away from camp the other morning and towards the Red Wood. Abby wished she could put it to words. She wished that she understood all that was happening.

“Sióg bheag.”

She was speechless, her fingers curled against the trunk and her other hand gripping her gown. She could only hear the stream and the water. She couldn’t hear little Dyana’s babbles, or the laughter of Wylla. Abby shivered again. There were no dragon calls, she realized. There was nothing except the pool of water and the weirwood and them.

The man was tall. At least, Abby thought it was a man. He stood on the other side of the tree, the water of the pool lapping along knees covered by rough, dark green trousers, his tunic woven of leaves of dappled green and red, his arms bare and big like the strongman she’d seen fight the last feast day of the Warrior. It was the antlers that her gaze was ultimately drawn too. Antlers that looked like they were sprouting from his wiry red hair, bone white as weirwood boughs. His face was square and ruddy and worn, skin like leather, his beard long and hairy.

“Níl aon rud sa saol seo ach na crainn agus ní bheidh muid beo ach ar feadh tamaill bhig,” the man spoke, his voice rough as river stones, worn as if abused by smoke. His eyes were dark and his gaze impossible to tear away from. Abby frantically attempted to discern what he said. Trees? Life?

“I…” She swallowed and forced herself to breathe. She did know these words, even on a long forgotten level. “We will only be alive a short time… Pangur Bán… Pangur Bán….” Abby sang the last words uncertainly as the lullaby tugged at her deep memory. The words cracked from her, creaky from disuse as she sang. “An dorchadas a chasadh chun solais…”

Turn the darkness to light.

Silence fell and the weirwood’s leaves shuddered. Something tickled against her hair and cheek and Abby lifted her hand to pluck away one of the crimson leaves that had fallen.

“Duais tine gréine,” he said, tilting his head up to the sky. “Duais fola.” Prize? Sun prize? She didn’t not understand what sort of prize he meant by fola, a word she wasn’t familiar with.

“I don’t understand,” Abby confessed. Her voice trembled and she hated it. She hated that she was struggling with words spoken to her in the cradle. Words that were a part of her but long left unspoken and now rusty and creaky with disuse. “I want to understand.” She tilted her head, watching the way the antlers looked beneath the dappled light. “You’re from the Isle of Faces, aren’t you?”

He inclined his head slightly in what she could only assume was confirmation and she bowed her head in return. The Green Men were the protectors of the weirwoods, of the most ancient practices. Pilgrims seldom visited the Isle, but they did, many choosing to stay among the small community to pray, to protect the trees, to practice whatever vestiges of the magic that was left before the Children had vanished far away.

She tried to find the words and they came out pathetic to her ears. “I came for my wedding blessing. I didn't mean to disrupt your quiet.”

“A bride for Harrenhal.” The common tongue was so clear that Abby blinked, stunned into silence. “They leave quickly. Sickness. Water. Poison.”

Harwin’s mother had died from Winter fever and her own had died from a long illness. Larys and Cory’s mother had drowned. None that she knew of had been poisoned.

A bride with a broken neck. How tragic.

Abby’s knees buckled and she sat heavily down on the gnarled roots as the air was knocked from her. She tried to swallow and push the words out but her throat was closed and her eyes were hot. A shudder rocked her frame. She was so exhausted from her grief that Abby thought she should find it a relief that it would not be her grief to bear this time, but the idea of being parted from Aegon, from leaving him alone to the further machinations of his mother and grandfather, to whatever the realm chose. Would they think he had poisoned her? Would he be held up as the criminal by Elmo Tully?

To not wake up in his arms every morning? To not taste his kisses, to not feel his arms around her holding her together and trying to lend her strength?

It was a damning hell. It was not peace. It was not solace, it was agony.

“In four moons, you will be blessed.”

She blinked past the angry tears in her eyes. “What? But you just said-”

“In four moons, the gods will bless you.” He turned in dismissal and she pushed from the roots, crying out after him to ‘Wait!’ but he didn’t. What did this even mean? Was she going to die in four moons? Would the gods save her in four moons?

“Please! I don’t know!” She cried again, tears rolling down her cheeks. The Green Man mounted the bank and Abby drew back as she got a look at his legs. They weren’t human legs, they were like a deer’s: bent and furred.

Then, he was gone and Abby was alone.

Her and the weirwood tree.

Did you like this chapter? WHAT ARE YOUR THEORIES? What excited you the most? What questions do you have? I'm here to answer! And if you don't know what to say, please reblog to spread the love <3 THREE CHAPTERS LEFT.

NEXT CHAPTER

[homestuckreplay]

Week 1 Retrospective: Who Is John Egbert?

It’s official - Homestuck is one week old today! And while a week is not a long run for a comic, it’s already got more pages than the author’s earlier work Bard Quest, so maybe it’s something worth recognizing. So I wanted to mark a week of Homestuck by doing a deep dive on what we’ve learned about our protagonist John Egbert so far. It’s some fact collection, some wild speculation, and some ongoing questions. It’s over 3000 words, so it’s under a readmore for anyone who’s interested.

If that doesn’t sound like a fun time to you (or even if it does), you can take the John Egbert Big 5 Personality Test to see how you score on John’s five key personality traits. It’s 14 multiple choice questions, so a much quicker read.

We’re introduced to John on page 4, where we’re given five key interests of his: bad movies, programming computers, paranormal lore, amateur magic, and gaming. I’ll take these one by one and use them as a framework for John’s character so far.

“You have a passion for REALLY TERRIBLE MOVIES.”

John has eleven (11) movie posters on his walls. Of these, three star Matthew McConaughey and two star Nicolas Cage. More notably, six have a Rotten Tomatoes rating below 50%, and two of these are below 10%. I haven’t seen any of these movies, but as far as I can tell, here are the one sentence summaries [broad spoilers for all these movies].

Little Monsters: A boy befriends a monster and visits the monster world, where they try to convert him into a monster too.

Con Air: A paroled man disrupts a gang of prisoner’s escape from a prison transport plane.

Deep Impact: Earth tries to prepare for extinction after a comet is found on a collision course with Earth.

Ghostbusters II: After going out of business, the Ghostbusters reunite to combat a negative energy slime monster.

Mac and Me: A boy befriends a young alien who gets separated from his family and lost on Earth.

Contact: An Earth scientist successfully discovers alien life and travels to an alien world.

A Time to Kill: A father is acquitted in court for killing the perpetrators of racial hate crimes against his daughter.

Failure to Launch: A 35 year old man’s parents hire a woman to persuade him to finally move out of their home.

Face/Off: A terrorist and a FBI agent go through facial transplant surgery and temporarily swap identities.

Armageddon: A group of space workmen go on a mission to stop an asteroid from destroying Earth. 

Ghost Dad: A man temporarily dies but is able to interact with his children in ghost form.

From this we can see that John really likes science fiction movies related to aliens, ghosts and monsters, as well as action comedy. We also know from page 21: ‘Films about impending apocalypse fascinate you’. A Time to Kill and Failure to Launch are the only ones that don’t fit his taste. The implication here is that John really loved Matthew McConaughey in Contact and so watched his other movies even though they were things he wouldn’t usually watch.

I’m curious if these movies are intended as clues to John’s character, the future of the comic, or both. In terms of his character, they make me see him as someone who’s imaginative and goofy, young and carefree, not concerned with other people’s opinions, more interested in watching movies for their surface meanings and exciting stories, maybe wants to escape to a different world, might be a little bit gay. 

In terms of the future of the comic, it could be that we’re going to see literal aliens or monsters - they could even be already here, keeping John ‘homestuck’. Slime monsters are particularly highlighted, with Slimer from Ghostbusters appearing on John’s shirt and computer background, and his chumhandle, ectoBiologist, relating to slime. Slime invasion honestly feels too obvious, and anyway, several of John’s movies are about befriending a more benign supernatural force - could John’s Pesterchum friends be something other than human? Or maybe it’s a more metaphorical meaning, referring to John having a very different life to his friends? 

Two of these movies feature Earth extinctions by giant space rocks, but there’s absolutely no indication of this being a real world threat John is dealing with. Again, it could refer more generally to a sudden, life changing event that’s about to happen to disrupt John’s current state, something that would fit thematically with this being John’s 13th birthday, a milestone age.

There’s also a theme of crime and the legal system in several movies, including Con Air, the one that’s been most highlighted. The most obvious interpretation of John’s dad right now is that he’s a clown or performer, but there’s an outside chance he could be in law enforcement, or a criminal. It’s even possible that he’s currently in hiding or some kind of safe house. This would explain John being ‘homestuck’ and sick of spending time with his dad.

Speaking of John’s dad, I’m concerned for him based on the Ghost Dad summary - the comic keeps teasing his presence, but we haven’t actually seen him yet. Could he be a ghost? Or become one at some point? Alternatively, we know John has an already dead relative - could his nanna be a ghost? Did John dropping her ashes release her ghost? Family is a really common theme in movies, so I don’t know if a large number of these movies being about family (especially fathers) is relevant, but I’m noting it all the same.

“You like to program computers but you are NOT VERY GOOD AT IT.”

John claims he ‘likes to program’, but it actually seems to make him angry. We first learn ‘[y]ou were never all that great with data structures and you find the concept [of the stack modus] puzzling and mildly irritating.’ We then see three files on John’s desktop, two in ^CAKE - ‘pff.^CAKE’ and ‘FUCK FUCK FUCK.^CAKE’ and one in ~ATH - ‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGH.~ATH’. These tell a clear narrative of John trying to work on his programming and getting increasingly more frustrated with his attempts, until inevitably giving up. Both of the programming languages are puns, too. ^ is often called a carat (carrot cake) while ~ is a tilde (til death). 

I know this is wild speculation, but… John started off coding in a harmless programming language, was already struggling, then for some reason switched over to the most ominous possible sounding language, screwed it up even worse, and now… he’s constantly haunted by the ghost of failed programming attempts in the form of his sylladex, which he appears to be new to using (he had no prior understanding of it on page 7 - although this could be handwaved due to video game tutorial logic), and which operates similarly to a computer program and seems to cause John endless frustration. He’ll have to figure out how to exploit the inventory system in ways that help him, which involves actually figuring out some stuff about coding, in order to partake in some real life ghostbusting, or monster hunting, or dealing with whatever threat he’ll have to deal with by using inventory hacks.

“You have a fondness for PARANORMAL LORE,” (...)

By far the interest of John’s that we’ve seen the least of so far, John’s love of the paranormal is mostly inferred through his movie preferences, and we don’t see any direct evidence of an interest in lore. However, I can’t stop fixating on John’s chumhandle: ectoBiologist. The comic’s first act was to draw attention to giving John a name, and for many 2009 kids, the names they go by online are more meaningful and representative of them than their real world names. 

‘ecto-’ means ‘outer, outside, external’ according to dictionary.com, and it’s actually a common prefix in a variety of fields of biology, but there’s no such thing as ‘ectobiology’ as a field, or an ‘ectobiologist’ - neither term has any search results prior to Homestuck. I think it’s way more likely that this refers to ectoplasm, a term from both cell biology and spiritualism that was popularized by Ghostbusters to mean any substance secreted by a ghost, in practice often manifesting as green slime. Slimer, who we can guess is John’s favorite, is a benign ghost made of pure ectoplasm. I love the idea that John loves this dumb ghost so much that he’s memorized all the lore about them in their appearances throughout the franchise, and devised this username based on being an expert on these ghosts right down to their biology (or at least thinking he is). 

The only catch is, ‘fondness for paranormal lore’ is very passive and doesn’t even imply much knowledge, much less action, while ‘biologist’ implies that John has been doing actual experiments. The idea of John trying to create a real life Slimer the same way other kids make slime in their kitchens is really entertaining, if an off the wall theory. Does ‘homestuck’ just mean John is grounded for an unethical science project? 

(...) “and are an aspiring AMATEUR MAGICIAN.”

The magic chest is one of the biggest, most eye catching and most colorful objects in John’s room. We see its contents on page 8, which lean more into joke store items than things a magician might use, except for the trick handcuffs and perhaps the collapsible sword. The narration on this page states that John is neither a skilled magician nor a cunning prankster. I’m nitpicking definitions here, but everything John has done so far has been way more about pranks than about magic. 

John’s uses of the magic chest to date are…

various putting things into his inventory and removing them (funny, but unintentionally)

combining fake arms with cake (p.36) out of necessity, which ‘makes the cake at least 300% more hilarious’

merging hat with beagle puss to create a clever disguise (p.45) and wearing it for 25+ pages, which he acknowledges is a ‘shitty disguise’

attaching fake arms to harlequin doll (p.65), which makes it ‘AT LEAST a million percent funnier’

All of which are definitely not magic tricks, and honestly not even pranks. Arguably John’s best and most successful prank so far has been when he pretended not to have arms for the first six pages, before revealing his arms after the interface had gone to the trouble of moving the cake off his magic chest to get him some arms.

John keeps thinking about reading Colonel Sassacre’s Guide to Magical Frivolity and Practical Japery, but always finding some excuse not to. He can’t read it until he captchalogues it, but once he does that, it gets buried in his inventory. He assumes that the book can tell him the exact percentage increase of hilarity a prank leads to, but it’s too big for him to actually look anything up. 

An outside theory for this that I don’t think is likely simply because it’s so much darker than the comic has been so far, is that John loves this book, but since the incident where his nanna was killed by a copy (perhaps even this copy?) he hasn’t been able to bring himself to read it. A far more likely theory is that while John is an aspiring amateur magician, it’s more of a big idea, and he hasn’t actually done any magic yet. This also tracks with his weaksauce pranks above. And if that’s true, then it says a lot about John that he defines himself by a hobby he aspires to but doesn’t actually practice - he’s someone with big dreams and less motivation, just like his big dream of going to collect the mail from his father despite the lack of motivation that’s kept him messing around for 70 pages. 

“You also like to play GAMES sometimes.”

Potentially most important of all is Gamer John. We get a list of games John likes to play from inspecting his CD tower the same way we get a list of movies from looking at his posters. 

Bard Quest

The Caper Havers

Problem Sleuth

And It Don’t Stop

What Pumpkin?

Ghostbusters II MMORPG

Little Monsters (for Nintendo)

Harry Anderson: Call My Bluff!

The first five games all reference previous work by the author of Homestuck, and as such probably don’t need in depth analysis. However, the fact that within the world of Homestuck, these are all games (instead of comics) is one of several suggestions that we should think of Homestuck as a game, something that needs further analysis. 

The next two games are video game adaptations of movies we know John likes, and the last is a branded video game from Harry Anderson, whose book we’ve already seen in John’s magic chest. Notably, none of these are real video games in our world either. It says a lot that John plays game versions of things he already likes (he’s put ‘countless manhours’ into this assortment of quality titles). 

However, it’s undeniable that the most important game in John’s life right now is Sburb. The poster is behind his head in the first panel, placed centrally with one of the only two splashes of color in the panel. The beta release is the only thing marked on his calendar for April besides his birthday, and the Sburb logo is even the picture printed on the calendar - perhaps it’s a calendar themed around new game releases? There’s clear delight on John’s face when he thinks about getting the beta, and his quest to fetch it from the recently delivered mail is the closest thing to a story this comic has so far.

Unfortunately, we know almost nothing about Sburb, so we don’t know what it says about John that he wants to play it. It’s publicized as the Game of the Year, and according to GameBro, the game may be about houses and the player may not get to thrash anything, although these details are provided by someone who hasn’t played the game so I’m not taking them as expert opinion. It might be multiplayer - TT has been pestering TG all day about playing it with her. Maybe John just wants to share a game with his friends.

Speaking of GameBro, John can’t stand the magazine, although he for some reason has a copy on his desk. He describes the publication as ‘a joke’ to TG, and he makes the effort to take it downstairs to the fire and burn it, presumably releasing asbestos fibers into the house and causing serious lung damage to himself and his father. Does he read this because it’s the only games magazine that exists? Or did he like it just fine until now, when it trashed the game he’s excited about, and now he’s furious with it? Either way, it tracks with John’s overall fondness for critically panned media that he would be angry about contrarian critics. 

–

All of this has left me with a few questions about John as our main character. These are the things that I’m keeping an eye on and trying to answer as the story continues.

What is John good at?

We hear so much about what John is bad at. He’s explicitly stated to be bad at programming, pranks, and magic. He’s bad at using his sylladex. He’s clumsy and knocked over his nanna’s ashes. He’s got bad taste in media. He’s funny but only when he doesn’t try to be, and even then he’s sometimes the butt of the joke, where the joke is how not funny John’s joke is. He was tempted to squawk like an imbecile and shit on his desk. He has like six different prankster props and he doesn’t even use all of them. I’m saying all this with love and kindness because he also just seems like such a sweet kid, but so far he doesn’t have any defined strengths or skills. 

Is he going to turn out to be really good at gaming and kick ass at Sburb? Are we going to get a curveball where it turns out John is an amazing baker, and he hates the cakes in his room and the smell of Betty Crocker because he can do so much better than that packet mix? Or is he starting off from this low point so he can develop skills as time goes on?

What is John’s relationship with his dad really like?

John doesn’t want his dad to monopolize his time and feels trapped in his room, despite his dad baking cakes and leaving notes on gifts telling John he’s proud of him. John’s dad gets his son one great present that John’s really appreciative of, and one terrible present that John immediately hates. All of this feels very reasonable and normal for a teen feeling misunderstood by a parent who’s trying their best. 

And then there’s the clowns.

John can excuse magical frivolity and practical japery, but he draws the line at harlequins. He’s an aspiring magician, but his dad’s figurines are ‘fucking garbage’ and his dad ‘sure can be a real cornball’. John seems like somebody who gets angry at ultimately unimportant things, like bad reviews of games, too many cakes, and harlequin figurines, but because of the subject matter it reads like an intense rivalry between two highly specific subcultures that outsiders would group together. John is really making a huge deal of needing to disguise himself and mentally prepare himself to go down and face his dad, and I want to know if there’s any genuine reason behind John’s fear, or if it’s solely the overdramatics I’m starting to think are typical of him.

Is John ‘Homestuck’?

‘Sometimes you feel like you are trapped in this room. Stuck, if you will, in a sense which possibly borders on the titular.’ (p.30)

John clearly feels like he’s stuck at home, but is this the extent of the title’s meaning? His dad has recently returned from getting groceries, so leaving the house is in theory possible. Reasons why John might be homestuck include: he’s not allowed to leave the house (for example, he’s grounded, or his dad is very controlling), he can leave the house but there’s nowhere to go (he lives near major roads, bodies of water, farms, or other obstacles, and there’s no public transport to get anywhere), or he can leave the house but it’s not safe to do so (there’s some sort of external threat, either supernatural like a monster or alien invasion, or mundane like a criminal or bomb threat). Seeing out of John’s window and into his front yard does not provide any clues; it looks like an extremely average front yard with a tree, swing and mailbox, and we know the mail was recently delivered, so there can’t be anything too world-ending happening in the neighborhood. Right now John’s goal (the Sburb Beta disc) is inside the house, so this might not get answered right away - in fact, my running theory is that the game itself might hold the answers, as its logo is a house.

What’s the differentiation between John and the narrator?

My biggest question of all, and one that probably deserves its own essay. I’m fascinated by the lines ‘In a kid's yard, a tree without a tire swing is like a proper gentleman without a monocle.’ (p.27) and ‘In a home, a FIREPLACE needs a fire, because that's what FIREPLACE is for.’ (p.50). These lines carry so much opinion, but because the narrator is constantly addressing John with the second person ‘you’, I don’t think these are John’s opinions. The narrator does have a window into John’s thoughts, so the line between them can be blurred, but there's clearly a distinction somewhere, because there have been pushbacks and disagreements between the two of them. 

One theory is that John’s dad is the narrator - John’s at home a lot for whatever reason, and so the constant and overbearing presence of his dad means that he can’t get him out of his head even when he’s alone, the commands at the top of each page reflecting John’s dad’s level of control over his son’s life. But I think this question is open ended enough that I’m not willing to commit to one theory yet. After all, we ‘examine 3rd and 4th walls of [John’s] room’ which is a directly meta allusion to the comic’s audience that only really makes sense if the narrator isn’t a character in the comic itself. 

–

I think John Egbert has been really well characterized so far. He feels like a real kid, one who keeps getting off track and forgetting what he should be doing, but one who it’s enough fun to get to know that I don’t really notice. While the main character in media often doesn’t end up being the most interesting character, I do want to keep an eye on John because I think he has a lot going on to analyze. Above the style and the world and the mechanics, John as a character is the aspect of the comic I’m most interested in right now.

[lauraneedstochill]

:::::::: House of the Dragon masterlist ::::::::

last updated: 15.09.2023 / 🆕 — recents fics / 🔞 — smut / 🔪 — angst

🆕 Confess the longing you are dreaming of (🔞~8000 words) AO3 Aemond thinks the woman he has to marry is the most impudent and unsufferable he’s ever met. He’s also never wanted anyone so badly. (Martell ! reader) ● Cry me a river (~11K) AO3 Aemond finds her wounded and left to die in the middle of nowhere. her desire for vengeance helps her survive — and her unbreakable spirit inevitably draws the prince to her. 🔥 Love always wakes the dragon (multi-chapter) 🔞🔪 She arrives unexpectedly — her hair bright as fire, her temper burning, — and riding a dragon she’s never supposed to have. Out of four Daemon’s daughters, she resembles him the most and yet, she wants nothing to do with her father. She also hides a dangerous secret and has her own reasons for coming to King’s Landing. Aemond wonders if he can tame her. 1. The wind of change (~4000) 2. The wild dragon (~8000) [this fic is almost finished and will be updated soon] ● My first choice: 🔪 part 1 (~5500) / part 2 (~8500) AO3 Aemond thinks you are way too good to be Aegon’s best friend. But you are enough for the one-eyed prince to fall in love with (insired by “Little women” and Amy March)

● The object of my desires (🔞 ~6500) AO3 You overhear Aemond making a snarky remark about the way you dress. You decide to teach him a lesson (inspired by the famous quote from Bridgerton S2) ● I won’t fall for someone who can’t misbehave (~9000) AO3 Aemond is betrothed to the sweetest girl in the Seven Kingdoms. She’s smiley, soft and kind-hearted. Until she isn’t. (or, alternatively: “No one took your side when you were a kid. But I’m doing it now.”) ● Make a move: part 1 (~6000) AO3 / part 2 You think Aemond is too arrogant to woo you, but he’s got some tricks up his sleeve. (inspired by the movie “Crazy, stupid, love”) ● Can’t help falling in love (~5500) AO3 5 times Aemond was in love with you + 1 time he finally confessed his feelings.

● part 1: “All yours” (~3000) AO3 ● part 2: First time for everything (🔞 ~6900) AO3 ● part 3 ● The Greens headcanons (modern!au) ➕ unrelated one-shots: ● I was searching but not for you (~4000) AO3 Aemond is eager to catch the thief who keeps stealing his gemstones but the person in question seems to always be one step ahead of him.

● Find my body covered in confetti (Aegon x reader, ~5000) AO3 Aegon is a regular at your bar but he doesn’t come only for the drinks.

Aemond Targaryen + tumblr posts that are definitely about him part 1 / part 2 / part 3 Aegon II Targaryen + tumblr posts that are definitely about him part 1 / part 2 / part 3

🎵 Aemond’s playlist 🎵 Aegon’s playlist

[deep-dive]

2023

albums/eps: a.s.o. - a.s.o. Amaarae - Fountain Baby Amnesia Scanner & Freeka Tet - STROBE.RIP André 3000 - New Blue Sun ANOHNI and the Johnsons - My Back Was a Bridge for You to Cross Anthony Naples - Orbs bar italia - Tracey Denim Beach Fossils - Bunny Ben Vida, Yarn/Wire & Nina Dante - The Beat My Head Hit Beverly Glenn-Copeland - The Ones Ahead Biosphere - N-Plants Blonde Redhead - Sit Down for Dinner Bored Lord - Name It Call Super - Eulo Cramps Carly Rae Jepsen - The Loveliest Time Caroline Polachek - Desire, I Want to Turn Into You Chuquimamani-Condori - DJ E Cole Police - If I Don’t See You in the Future, I’ll See You in the Pasture Dean Blunt - Give me a moment DJ Lostboi - Music for Landings DJ Sabrina the Teenage DJ - Destiny Double Virgo - hardrive heat seeking Eartheater - Powders The Embassy - E-Numbers Everything But the Girl - Fuse Fever Ray - Radical Romantics Freak Heat Waves - Mondo Tempo Headache - The Head Hurts but the Heart Knows the Truth Hiroyuki Onogawa - August in the Water: Music for Film 1995-2005 Jam City - Jam City Presents EFM James Ivy - Everything Perfect Jessy Lanza - Love Hallucination Jim Legxacy - homeless n****a pop music Joanne Robertson - Blue Car Jonnine - Maritz Kelela - Raven Khotin - Release Spirit Kota Hoshino, Shoi Miyazawa - Armored Core VI OST Laurel Halo - Atlas Loraine James - Gentle Confrontation Maria BC - Spike Field mark william lewis - Living Matmos - Return to Archive MIZU - Distant Intervals ML Buch - Suntub Noriko Tujiko - Crépuscule I & II Nourished by Time - Erotic Probiotic 2 Oneohtrix Point Never - Again Osmotic & Fennesz - Senzatetto Pierre Rousseau - Mémoire De Forme Purelink - Signs Ryuichi Sakamoto - 12 Sofia Courtesies - Madres ssaliva - sector6park/counterfeit Sufjan Stevens - Javelin Tim Hecker - No Highs Tirzah - trip9love…??? Wild Nothing - Hold Yves Tumor - Praise a Lord Who Chews but Which Does Not Consume; (Or Simply, Hot Between Worlds) µ-Ziq - 1977 7038634357 - Neo Seven

songs: a.s.o. - Love in the Darkness Addison Rae - I got it bad Alex Kassian - Leave Your Life (Lonely Hearts Mix) Amaarae - Reckless & Sweet Amnesia Scanner & Freeka Tet - Clown André - Ants To You, Gods To Who ? ANOHNI and the Johnsons - Can’t ANOHNI and the Johnsons - It Must Change Anthony Naples - Silas Armin van Buuren & Punctual - On & On (ft. Alina) bambinodj - High as Ever Still Passin' Through (Remix) bar italia - Nocd Baths - Do I Make the World Worse Beach Fossils - Don’t Fade Away Beverly Glenn-Copeland - People of the Loon Bibio & Óskar Guðjónsson - Sunbursting Björk & Rosalía - Oral Blawan - Toast Bored Lord - Wait Wait Wait bvdub - Days on Heaven and Earth Call Super - Coppertone Elegy Carly Rae Jensen - Psychedelic Switch Caroline Polachek - Bunny Is a Rider (Doss Remix) Caroline Polachek - Crude Drawing of an Angel Chuquimamani-Condori - Eat My Cum Chuquimamani-Condori - Know Dean Blunt - Rinsed (ft. TYSON) Dj Lostboi - PUF 2 LAX DJ Sabrina the Teenage DJ - For Now and Forever Double Virgo - gainfully deployed EASYFUN - Long Long Time The Embassy - Amnesia ESP - North Fever Ray - Kandy Freak Heat Waves & Cindy Lee - In a Moment Divine Fwea-Go Hit - Back Wildin Headache - That Thing with the Rabbit Headache - Truism 4 Dummies Hemlocke Springs - sever the blight Hudson Mohawke & Nikki Nair - Demuro Ike - Rose Quartz Jam City - Magnetic James K & hoodie - Ether Jessy Lanza - Don’t Cry On My Pillow Jim Legxacy - amnesia111 Jim Legxacy - candy reign (!) Jonnine - Tea For Two (Boo) Kelela - Divorce Khotin - Computer Break (Late Mix) Kylie Minogue - Hold on to Now Laurel Halo, Bendik Giske, Lucy Railton & James Underwood - Earthbound Loraine James - Tired of Me Lorenzi - Lonely Cowboy Tales (Crayon Moon Remix) LSDXOXO - Devil’s Chariot Maria BC - Still Maria BC - Watcher mark william lewis - Living Mc LcKaiique, MC Celo BK & DJ Jeeh FDC - Quem Tá de Motão, Vou Sarrar Puta Na Marcone (ft. DJ Biel Divulga) ML Buch - High speed calm air tonight Nation & Ecco2k - Ça Va Nicole Dollanganger - Gold Satin Dreamer Nourished by Time - Rain Water Promise Oliver Coates - One Without Oneohtrix Point Never - Krumville Purelink - We Should Keep Going Shoi Miyazawa - Rough and Decent Slayyyter - Miss Belladonna Sufjan Stevens - Shit talk Tim Hecker - Total Garbage Tirzah - u all the time Troye Sivan - Got Me Started Wild Nothing - Suburban Solutions Yves Tumor - Echolalia Yves Tumor - Fear Evil Like Fire µ-Ziq - 4am

mixes: CFCF - CFCF for TERMINAL 27 Chuquimamani-Condori - Fact Mix 937 PC Music - 10 Physical Therapy - car culture remissions vol. 4 plush - LIVE AT SKSKSKSK S-candalo - Fact Mix 897 WHY BE - OdyXxey Radio Mix

movies: Afire (Christian Petzold) All the Beauty and the Bloodshed (Laura Poitras) E6-D7 (Eno Swinnen) Evil Dead Rise (Lee Cronin) Grown in Darkness (Devin Shears) How Do You Live? (Hayao Miyazaki) The Killer (David Fincher) Killers of the Flower Moon (Martin Scorsese) Knock at the Cabin (M. Night Shyamalan) Last Summer (Catherine Breillat) May December (Todd Haynes) Oppenheimer (Christopher Nolan) The Outwaters (Robbie Banfitch) Rotting in the Sun (Sebastián Silva) Showing Up (Kelly Reichardt) The Zone of Interest (Jonathan Glazer)

games: Alan Wake II Armored Core VI: Fires of Rubicon Baldur’s Gate III Blasphemous II Diablo IV Humanity Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Lies of P Metroid Prime Remastered Octopath Traveler II Pikmin 4 Star Ocean: The Second Story R Super Mario Bros. Wonder Theatrhythm Final Bar Line Wo Long: Fallen Dynasty

[dyinglikenarcissus]

Stripped Naked

So I wrote this for @ramp-it-up Love you 3000 celebration but it was quickly getting too long 😅 so I scrapped it but I started rereading it and it was good. It has a similar theme as Stripped but it's a completely different story. If you have a problem with it, throw me in jail for plagiarizing myself. Also I couldn't think of another name so its just Stripped Max Pro *new* 2c (but not a sequel)

Anyway, we’ve been here before: Stripper Steve meets are innocent virgin reader and has to win her over

Warnings: 18+ only! Contains: Virgin reader, stripping, alcohol, vaginal intercourse, a couple consenting adults having a good time. It’s pretty vanilla but sometimes all you want is vanilla

You know the deal: Please don’t copy or repost my work, thanks! Plagiarism is rude

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated ☺️

I give you Stripped Naked

Part I

Part II

Part III

Master List

[angelismmm]

genshin impact mlist ♪

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ☆ — nsfw || ⟢ — sfw/fluff/etc.

event mlist (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡ (seperate masterlists for writing events i do)

how does he fall in love ・ how genshin boys fall in love with you.

multi (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡

the way i think of you. ft. kaeya, childe/tartaglia, diluc ☆

a slice of your heart? ft. diluc, childe/tartaglia, kaeya, zhongli ☆/⟢

a slice of your heart? the II ft. jean, venti, itto, thoma ☆/⟢

a slice of your heart? the III ft. xiao, scaramouche ☆/⟢

be a good kitty ft. scaramouche, kazuha ☆

my sweet sweet kitty ft. xiao, aether ☆

different kind of affection, my kind of affection ft. scaramouche, heizou, kazuha, venti ⟢

you taste like vanilla ft. cyno, alhaitham, tighnari, kaveh ⟢

care to be mine? oh you already are?! ft. kokomi, hu tao, ayaka, noelle ⟢

ily 3000 ft. head over heels genshin men ⟢

if and/or when ft. single dad! genshin men ⟢

a slice of life ft. hsr + genshin men ⟢

mondstadt (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡

what it means to touch you first ft. kaeya ☆

be a good pet and wait ft. diluc ☆

liyue (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡

naughty boys get punished ft. zhongli ☆

two is better than one ft. zhongli ☆

inazuma (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡

i already miss you so much ft. ayato ☆

i'll treat you like royalty ft. thoma ☆

sumeru (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡

kiss it better ft. cyno ☆

love me harder ft. alhaitham ☆

snezhnaya (੭ ˊ^ˋ)੭ ♡

oh dear harbinger ft. pantalone, childe ☆

you're both ours, don't complain ft. capitano & childe ☆

☆〜（ゝ。∂）drabbls

diluc x virgin!reader ☆

nsfw genshin men thoughts ☆

[pansexualtimcurryvampireelf]

Gale: *spends the entirety of Act II moping about having to blow himself up when we find the Absolute*

Tav: *spends the entirety of Act II telling Gale his goddess is kind of a bitch and we can most certainly defeat the Absolute without him blowing himself up*

Gale when we reach the Absolute: Alright. It's time to die. And nothing you say can convince me otherwise.

Tav: I love you 3000.

Gale: Actually, you make a solid argument.

[tacktheyak]

new intro post!!!

hey there! you can call me maisy or tack (they/them pronouns, please!)

im a queer, nonbinary, and probably autistic artist; a quadruple threat >:)

if you like *sharp inhale*:

-cats (the musical)

-ride the cyclone

-welcome home

-a series of unfortunate events

-team starkid/hatchetverse

-don’t hug me im scared

-moral orel

-regretevator

-bluey

-raggedy ann and andy: a musical adventure

-mystery science theater 3000

-bigtop burger (and other worthikids content!)

-the cabinet of doctor caligari

-rocky horror picture show

-shock treatment

-hawaii part ii

-they might be giants

-jack stauber

-musicals

-puppetry

-claymation

-indie animation

among other funky things (phew!)…

then you’ve come to the right blog!! i love that stuff :D

but if you are a:

-bigot (racist, sexist, homophobic, ableist, etc.)

-proshipper

get out of here! I don’t like you guys very much (also i am a minor, so dni if that makes you uncomfortable!)

feel free to send me drawing requests and asks about any of my interests listed above in my ask box, i love receiving that stuff!

that’s all for now, enjoy your stay!

[marianadecarlos]

Reading these comments show how uneducated people they are. Reading these comments makes me 😡😡. They accuse him of being evil and say that is a horrible person without researching about him. Insulted his family and appearance. These people blamed Carlos for Auto de Fe even though he hardly organized the event and the inquisition selects the people who gets executed. The numbers killed in the inquisition is not as many as we where led to believe it is all propaganda, record in the entire 400 years of confirmed executions, was about 3000. Compare these executions under the rule of Henry VIII and Elizabeth I. Speaking of Elizabeth she ordered priest to have their intestines ripped out alive and thrown into boiling oil. Auto de Fe is horrible but we should not judge it the way we do in modern standards. Beliefs and ethics back then is different compared to the modern era. Another thing I want to address is the comment about Don Juan. This person insist that Charles should abdicate. I bet this person does not know how politics work back then. 1. Charles can't do that because no one is going to agree to that idea. 2. He is illegitimate, illegitimate children taking the crown during this era was frowned upon.

About Eugenia I have a post about her in my blog you should check it out. If you want to know more about her and Charles side of the story.

There is one comment I have read in a video about him I forgot the title. It was a few months ago I believe. One user commented that Charles II of Spain is as evil as Elizabeth Bathory. This person is comparing him to a literal serial killer.

Charles is not evil! He created laws to protect natives because he felt bad for them. He appointed good ministers. He even apologized to his people for not knowing about their situation and tried everything to fix the problems of the empire. He loved Spain and did everything to preserve it. When he died all of Spain mourned him.

[clearancecreedwatersurvival]

Saw someone say that the wheel of time show has nothing in common with the books and this is. So not correct.

If you want to see what a show looks like when it has nothing to do with the source material, watch Netflix’s take on the witcher. That’s what happens when not only do the people adapting it not care about the source material but the showrunner actually has stated on record that she dislikes the source material. The witcher on Netflix fucked it up so bad that the lead actor, a huge fan of the source material, walked after three seasons. (I have been informed he actually left due to onset conflicts and instances of being misogynistic to his coworkers. Still a bad adaptation but I rescind this point) Pretty sure the entire country of Poland has disavowed this adaptation and the author wants Nothing to do with it.

The wheel of time is the total opposite. It is Extremely clear that the people working on it and the showrunner love the source material.

This production is running off a shoestring budget. Amazon put most of their high fantasy money into the rings of power (and the effects for the volcano eruption). And rather than being given enough seasons to adapt the entire book series, they’ve been given 8. To adapt 14 Extremely long and complicated books. How many named characters are there in the wheel of time?? Over 3000.

They are being given a very short time frame to accomplish a LOT of plot. Of course they’re going to cut stuff. Of course they’re going to combine characters. Season 2 is covering both books II and III! But they are focusing on the arcs of all the major characters and making sure they are set up for all their major character beats, and setting up the power players and institutions that matter in the larger geopolitical conflicts of randland. Sometimes that means making one character have later parts of their own plots sooner than it takes in the books (Moiraine and Mat in particular so far).

There are a lot of people saying it’s a bad adaptation mostly because a. They’ve made any changes from the books at all and b. Too many characters are gay now. Admittedly most of the people complaining about the adaptation having too many gay characters and nonwhite actors are on Reddit, but still. Both of these are of course nonsense. Of course you have to make changes in making Any adaptation of any book but trying to do the wheel of time in 8 seasons is a Herculean task. That’s why RJ made it 14 books, he tried to do it in less and failed cause he was an adhd king.

Rafe and the other writers have their own particular interpretations of characters but they Are interpreting the original work in a way that holds all the core themes. This season in particular is doing a great job so far of establishing the threat of the seanchan and the trauma of when channelers are cut off from the one power, both of which will of course be central focuses of the rest of the narrative for all of our main characters. I’m Really looking forward to the introduction of the Aiel this season as well.

Also if you’re mad there’s so many queer characters Come The Fuck On. Siuaraine is book canon, go reread New Spring. And I think making the polycule an actual polycule instead of a Mormon sisterwife situation is a fucking Brilliant choice. Making polyamory overtly present in the world already with Alanna and her warders is so good! And given they’re already coding Min as bi I have high hopes for Aviendha and Elayne as well (and also Mat, Mat should join the polycule I am crossing my fingers and toes like I know he’s probably gonna marry Tuon still but Come On he deserves to be in the polycule). If there is one thing I trust Rafe and co. to do well with this adaptation it’s the queer stuff.

Like I get it I’m also sad Uno had to die to make the Seanchan look more badass (r.i.p. my favorite foul mouthed bastard). But they have to make changes in the course of adaptation and if your criticism is just ‘they changed something,’ then please look at the holistic context of the changes, and accept that every adaptation of every book will make changes in order to translate the story to film.

[raccoonfallsharder]

Window Across the Galaxy ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*

masterlist

navigation | fanfiction masterlist | nsfw masterlist | collections masterlist 18+ only MDNI | rocket x f!oc | 27/27 chapters | word count: 235,940. spice ✩ | some smut ❤︎‬ | much smut ❤︎‬❤︎‬

girl falls first; raccoon falls harder.

Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1 (but will hit most of the same major plot points). slow burn + eventual smut with a lot of pining in the middle. kinda enemies-to-lovers? (but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies).

let me be real with you: this fic is really about wish-fulfillment. not just the eventual smut (but that too). mostly i just want someone to be nice to my best boy raccoon back to main masterlist.

so many amazing sweet wonderful readers have drawn fanart of this fic??? ♡♡♡♡♡ jolie is written without much physical description so you can imagine whatever you want but if you'd like to see how i and others imagine her, i've linked them below. thank you for being the absolute sweetest.

jolie's painting of rocket by @hibataao3 makes me cry every time i look at it

very first portrait of jolie by @raccoonmybeloved ~ so fucking cute i died

sims of jo by @evolvingchaoswitch ~ particularly love her paint-spattered outfit

an absolutely drool-worthy nsfw of rocket & jolie by @lazarel-3000 that permanently has altered my brain chemistry and lives in my mind forever ♡♡♡

adorable jolie sketches by @moonnpiie that truly capture what i mean when i describe jo as having “everywhere-hair.” plus her lil art-glove! (and a really cute rocket)

the cutest jo by @frostedwitch in her chapter xxvii sweatshirt. she is so cute with such shiny eyes and cute freckles and i love her so so so much! ♡♡♡

this shiny-haired jo by @miinsie! i love her hair so much in this one - it almost looks iridescent. i swoon. thank you for taking the time to read and to share this lovely interpretation of jolie with me!

and here are my jolie character concepts (complete full-color illo & rough doodles) and an illustration of one of my fave scenes from window ♡

✧･ﾟ:*collects Chapters I-XXVII (below the cut) & a holiday special && a silly epilogue spice ✩ | some smut ❤︎‬ | much smut ❤︎‬❤︎‬

Chapter I. A Delicacy. in which our reluctant heroes meet atop a crate of Sovereign porn in the bowels of a Ravager ship.

Chapter II. Monster For A Pet. in which one hero wrestles with his inner Groot, and the other is quite possibly a moron.

Chapter III. A Kindness. in which Rocket gets in his own damn way: not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

Chapter IV. Got There First. in which our heroes obtain an arsenal and street food.

Chapter V. Things No-One Has Said Before. in which one hero refuses to babysit and the other refuses to leave.

Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units. in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course.

Chapter VII. I'm Here. in which we visit Knowhere.

Chapter VIII. The Care & Feeding of Human Pets. in which our heroes practice breathing and we lean into a new trope: “there was (technically) one bed.”

Chapter IX. Scrapmetal and a Dream. in which we redefine homemaking.

Chapter X. Thin Fucking Ice. in which our heroes get fucked. Not in the good way.

Chapter XI. Let It Be .in which Xandar is saved and good lives are lost.

Chapter XII. So Much It Hurts. in which we try not to fuck up the vibes.

Chapter XIII. Don’t Wait. in which a lost sister is found and Drax grapples with the concept of sarcasm.

Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared.

Chapter XV: Galaxy-Breaking Shit. in which more comfort is shared, and life is good. Briefly.

Chapter XVI. Run. in which Rocket falls victim to his superstitions.

Chapter XVII. A Seedling. A Fox. A Little Girl. in which the party is divided.

Chapter XVIII. I Happen to Know a Guy. in which our heroes get fucked. Again. Still not in the good way.

Chapter XIX. He Was Loved. in which a planet is killed, a friend is made and lost, and nobody still has any frickin’ tape.

Chapter XX. Some Nerve. ✩ in which an ultimatum is given.

Chapter XXI. I Very Still. ❤︎❤︎ in which our heroes get fucked. In the good way, this time. Finally.

Chapter XXII. Got There Worse. ❤︎❤︎ in which Rocket does not say "I love you."

Chapter XXIII. We're Gonna Need a Bigger Table. ❤︎ in which the galaxy just keeps spinning.

Chapter XXIV. Space Would Be Better. ❤︎❤︎ in which Rocket ~ discreetly ~ claims the title of boyfriend.

Chapter XXV. Little Love Stories. in which both of our heroes learn a little about themselves. ❤︎

Chapter XXVI. Other Side of the Window. in which old friends are reunited. ❤︎

Chapter XXV. The Most Beautiful Thing in My House. in which our heroes finally get what they deserve.❤︎

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ Winter Across the Galaxy * ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ a holiday special ✩

Epilogue: Interviewing Rocket & Jo. ten years after Window ends. short, silly fluff.

crystal divider by @/cafekitsune | mdni & support banners by @/saradika-graphics

[miao-archive]

【三体】 Three-Body : I love you 3000

“ I have been, and always shall be, your friend.” — Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982)

⤷ please turn on CC for english subs!

[lesbiansforboromir]

...I pity Arwen for the pressure put on her to be Luthien II, to love Aragorn. It sounds so forced.

I wonder why they would do that, is Galadriel trying to be Finrod II? Is to legimate his Gondorian ass?

Well, the answer to this is that canonically speaking every elf/human relationship is 'forced' in that (somehow more than all other actions in the world) they are 'gods will'. Eru quite literally is said to 'will' the elven/human couples fall in love with each other, to bless the Kings of Men. Elrond understands and expresses this pretty literally; Maybe, it has been appointed so, that by my loss the kingship of Men may be restored. The concept being that elven blood will convey a closeness to divinity upon Aragorn's line that has grown 'stale' over it's many previous generations. (yuck)

So like yes Arwen is I suppose pitiable in that she, like many of her kin in the First Age, is unfortunately important enough for god to take an interest in her. However, given that all love is supposedly something conveyed to couples from god to some degree? (unless it is a corruption, also possible) I would not call Arwen any more forced than anyone else, even if she clearly laments the loss of Valinor. The love did not mean she had to remain, and she makes the choice to marry Aragorn with as full an understanding of the consequences as she could have had without somehow experiencing them beforehand.

So I still find it difficult to muster any enduring pity for her, when she's been living fairly happily for 3000 years up till this point, with a father who appears to love her very much and honour her choices even if they hurt him deeply. In comparison to the vast majority of characters in lotr, especially the divinely important ones, Arwen lot is not lamentable. Although I suppose that is not really fair, pain is pain and one's psyche does not adjust itself according to some fair and balanced suffering measurer in the sky. Clearly Arwen was deeply distraught at the end and did die with some measure of regret. And despite her free choices, God did badger her into it... I'll try to be more sympathetic to elves... .. . No I can't I'm sorry. Good for you tho Anon.

[callmearcturus]

hiii just wanted to say that through the many many fic related spotify playlists you have made, you have had by far the most profound impact on my music tastes than anything else I can think of. Portugal the Man, Watsky, Spoon, The National, Cold War Kids, all of the KTOWL character playlists. You also streamlined my listening of Woodkid from "light interest" to "full blown obsession". And frankly I cannot thank you enough for it, so I'll instead just ask, do you have any more recommendations?

i have been wanting forever for an ask like this

i'm gonna put these in some vague categories so you can decide what you're in the mood for

Weird haunting folksy vibes

Fleet Foxes' Crack-Up (melancholic, deep water, forgotten legends)

Andrew Bird's Are You Serious (tho Armchair Apocrypha is my all time fave)

Bruce Peninsula's A Mountain Is A Mouth (their only good album sadly but fuck me its SO GODDAMN GOOD)

The Builders and the Butchers' Salvation is a Deep Dark Well (cannot believe how tight and cohesive this is)

Laura Marling's I Speak Because I Can (she's done other good stuff but this has "Devil's Spoke" so)

A little less alternative with more danceability

Franz Ferdinand's first three albums (the anthem to my own queer awakening when i was younger, my fave is probably still "The Fallen" which had a hand in inspiring the revenant AU)

James Blake's Assume Form but specifically "Where's the Catch?" which has the most incredible verse for Andre 3000 I've ever heard

if you want Karkat-vibes, check out Stars, no specific album bc a lot of their stuff is good, but try our "Fluorescent Light," "Romantic Comedy," "Hold On When You Get Love," "We Don't Want Your Body," and my favorite "Personal"

Gin Wigmore's Gravel & Wine

MGMT's Oracular Spectacular (my god that block of the last three songs is amazing)

Los Campesinos' No Blues (they have a LOT of good albums, this is the easiest to start with imo)

Arc's Weird Faves That Add Up To 90% Of Their Personality

Janelle Monae's Metropolis Suite, especially The Chase and The ArchAndroid. (PLEASE look up the video for "Many Moons" because its my favorite piece of science fiction. I CANNOT overstate how exemplary and unmatched Janelle is. I am just thinking about it and feeling goosebumps.)

Miracle Musical's Hawaii: Part II (there is not a part one really, it's a very strange, magical concept album)

The Mechanisms' The Bifrost Incident (i'm not gonna say anything except this is the only music album i know with a Plot Twist and if you can go into it not knowing the twist, do it)

and finally the most About Me Album that I feel weird even reccing because it's so specific, so interwoven into EVERYTHING I do:

The Klaxon's Myths of the Near Future. I cannot sell you on this album, only that I think if you somehow got a hold of my skull and held it to your ear like a conch shell, you'd hear this.

and i'm gonna stop there bc yeah that's. that's enough for now.