#and even if you're not... who cares to hear your rants in the ship tags?

[epickiya722]

"They hate each other! 😠"

The "they" in question!

Are you sure about that? ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT?!

If this is "hatred", then I'm questioning how you look at the people you hate.

[emilykaldwen]

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

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.

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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

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Author's Note: Happy Anniversary to Maiden! I'm so happy to those of you who've been on the journey from the start and those who have found this story along the way. We are in the final few chapters of this Arc! And to celebrate, I bring you amazing plot twists! All my love and thanks to @vampire-exgirlfriend for holding my hand and being with me every step of the way, and @darkwolf76 who loved this story first.

If you're reading here on tumblr, I'd love to hear from you! My inbox is open and I can't wait to hear your thoughts!

CHAPTER TWENTY - I'm In Over My Head

We finally arrive at Harrenhal, where you cannot escape the ghosts.

It was a fortnight by horseback and only six hours by Sunfyre to Harrenhal, but the royal progress along the Kingsroad took a moon. The people needed to see them, the queen had insisted, refusing to let them stay and ride out on dragonback. Instead, Helaena would stay, Ser Criston at her side, and the sworn sword would fly with the princess in a month’s time. Baela would fly out with them on Moondancer, Jace on Vermax, and Aemond would accompany the royal progress without Vhagar.

Harrenhal could only house so many dragons.

Abby was ready to be done with it all; her body felt like it would never stop jostling even when she was out of the wheelhouse. The days on horseback were better, but even those had left her aching from her inexperience. Aegon had whispered in her ear that it would be good practice for her, and how precious she looked bowlegged. The ribald flirtation had sent a rush of heat and anticipation through her, as well as frustration with him for making light of how uncomfortable she’d been. For his cheek, she’d bundled herself in the wheelhouse with the Crane twins, Merei Thorne, and Floris, the latter of which had her hold her tongue to keep from ranting.

She missed Wylla.

Wylla, she knew, would loop her arm through hers and recount all the wonderful ways they could make Aegon miserable. Jesting, of course, though the pair regularly snipped at one another.

Guilt roiled in Abby’s gut. After the betrothal announcement between Aemond and Floris, Wylla had taken the opportunity to flee to Stone Hedge to witness her brother’s nuptials to Lady Alys Bracken. It had been good that she did, Abby thought. She would be able to see her mother and other brothers, who had come down in order to attend her wedding, and Wylla did not know when she would see them next. Karhold was further north than Winterfell and her friend was giving up a great deal to come live at Harrenhal.

That said little of the other reasons why Wylla had eagerly left for Stone Hedge, and Abby thought of Helaena’s words all those months ago. ‘And I’ll be left alone while you and Aegon are busy making babies together!’ She felt like a poor friend and and even worse sister, unable to deny that as the weeks had passed, her focus had been less on duties she’d taken so seriously, of being there for those she cared for, and more focused on the making of her wedding dress, of the stealing time with Aegon with a desperate heat and wanting, of responding to well wishes and organizing a household… when she had promised to always be there for Helaena. When she had begun to foster a love and friendship with Wylla that had grown into its own sisterhood.

Jace had so easily comforted Helaena during her difficult days when Abby was pulled away or otherwise occupied. And Wylla had not even told her of the budding romance between her and Aemond - now brutally cut short in the wake of politics beyond their control. So consumed she’d been with Aegon, with everything else, things that, selfishly, were for her and her alone, and so easily she’d forgotten those she vowed to care for.

Abby would do all she could to make up for it. She would ensure that Wylla did not feel forgotten, that her and Helaena could indeed visit often. She would write, she would-

“Lady Abrogail?”

Desmera’s voice cut through the swirl of guilty words flitting through Abby’s head and she looked up at the Crane girl. Desma, Abby corrected herself. Desmera preferred Desma. She was holding the wool kirtle in her arms, the shade of green as lush and dark as the fields they passed through with red weirwood embroidery along the arms. The surcoat carefully folded on the table was half red and half blue and edged in silvery rabbit fur, among the other parts of her heraldic dress. She would not be in the wheelhouse as they came into Harrentown, and the parade that announced their arrival would be a large one. Already they had seen an uptick of traffic along the Kingsroad and the tents in the fields, the small inns filled to bursting the closer they were. With only a few hours until they approached the town, it was almost like they were approaching King’s Landing. Merchants were setting up along the way to hawk wares and Abby knew that the crowd would be thicker the closer they crept

The distant call of dragons echoed outside the tent and Abby and Desma poked their heads out the flap to crane their necks to look up.

“I can’t believe Ser Criston is riding dragonback with the princess,” Desma murmured, and Abby laughed. He had stayed behind with Helaena, and Abby knew it was to keep an eye on Jace. What Abby would have given to see the look on the knight’s face when he was told that he would fly with Helaena. Not even Queen Alicent had flown with her children, despite both Aegon and Helaena’s offers.

Abby knew how big dragons were, having been around them her whole life, but this was different. With no expansive sprawl of King’s Landing or the Great Sept to compare, they seemed even larger. Past the many tents of the camps, the moors of the Riverlands was all there was. No buildings, no great mountains or spires or monuments. Just the green, rolling hills surrounding the Kingsroad and the forest beyond.

Dreamfyre’s bulk was impressive, the blue and silver of her scales standing out in the morning light, her call warm and low, melodic in a way that was surprising for a dragon. Two smaller dragons were flying about, answering the calls, scales in shades of jade and bronze and silver as Jace and Baela danced around the great dragon.

There was another familiar call, the trilling echoing across the moor like a song. Abby’s heart swelled, hearing Aegon’s happy shout from somewhere inside the camp as Sunfyre gleamed as bright as the morning sun. How she missed him, how she missed being free in the air where nothing else mattered.

Desma tugged on her elbow, laughing. “Come back here, Abby, you’re still in your nightgown.”

Abby allowed herself to be pulled back in the tent, and was soon joined by Merei Thorne, who came bearing a plate of cold meats and bread and warm cider to break her fast.

“I’m ready to be done with all this mud,” she groused, dark hair loose and free about her shoulders, her swarthy skin flushed from the cool morning air. “Ser Rickard says the crowds up the road will be thick by the time we reach them.” Merei’s uncle was a member of the Kingsguard, and Abby was grateful that she had sought information before arriving.

She let herself be tugged out of her nightgown and a fresh chemise pulled over her head before Desma got her into the green kirtle and Merei shoved a piece of bread with ham into Abby’s open mouth. “Wylla’s sent word this morning with the rider.” Merei waved the scroll around. “Your rooms have been made ready, and Lythene and Sarra are settling in, so all you need to do is arrange things to your liking.”

Abby eagerly reached for the scroll as the girls laced her into the kirtle. It was a short message, but Wylla’s handwriting was comforting and familiar.

“Is Alys another one of your ladies?” Merei asked, moving the surcoat out of the way while Abby sat to eat. Desma opened the box of combs and ribbons and hairpins to get to work on her curls.

Wylla’s letter had mentioned help from Alys Rivers, and Abby shook her head before Desma pinched her to keep still as she carefully worked Abby’s curls.

“No, she’s a member of our household. A healer and sometimes ladies maid. She helped my mother when she was pregnant with me, but declined to come to the capital with us.” Her memories of the woman were fuzzy whenever Abby tried to look at them more closely. Dark haired with large grey eyes, Alys had been a fixture when she had visited Harrenhal over the years. “It’s good that she’s helping Wylla. I know Aunt Mya has her hands full with everything and my cousin, Deidre, is there to help.” Deidre, the future Lady Smallwood of Acorn Hall, had grown up at Harrenhal and would prove helpful in this busy time of preparation. Deidre’s younger sister, Cassana, lived at Runestone and would be arriving with Lord Yorick’s party soon.

Desma’s hands worked quickly to pull Abby’s curls from her face, winding a knot of braids along the back of her head, the rest curling down her back to her waist. It would be hours of riding, but also hours of being seen by the people who looked to Harrenhal, who looked to her family, as their liege lords. Merei pulled a delicate net of silver dotted with rubies, sapphires, and emeralds and pinned it around Desma’s delicate knotwork.

With her mother’s carnelian necklace around her throat, Abby shoved her feet into her riding boots and grabbed a last chunk of bread and ham before ducking out of the tent as her ladies oversaw the packing of her things.

The sea of black and red tents felt like a field of Targaryen poppies as she made her way through the camp. The ground was not as muddy as Merei complained, but Abby was nonetheless grateful for her sturdy boots. Already the grass was churning into a muddy mess in various places and she carefully stepped around them. Servants paused to offer quick bows and curtsies, which Abby felt awkward about. They did not need to pause in their duties to acknowledge her, but at the same time, it was strangely satisfying to be recognized, to be deferred to in some small way.

Abby was not sure how to feel about it, so she pushed the confusing feelings away and shoved the rest of her bread in her mouth.

She found Aegon where the horses were stabled, tethered to temporary posts and being fed their morning grain. The morning light turned Aegon’s curls a soft gold, his gray linen shirt tucked into a pair of high waisted, black riding pants, stripes of red embroidered with gold scales down the sides into a pair of tall, shiny black boots. He was without his own surcoat and she knew that it was just as ostentatious as her own heraldic gown: black and red and scaled as was the Targaryen way. She licked butter from her thumb as she approached, gaze raking over him appreciatively and the opened neck of his shirt, teasing the lightly freckled skin that she longed to kiss.

Kostōba was as brilliant as ever, pawing happily at the ground and rooting his nose against Aegon, clearly looking for more treats. His cream colored coat shone as golden as his master’s hair in the sun, brilliant against the caparison of red and black taffeta for House Targaryen. Aegon was busy stroking the snout of another horse, focused on checking the buckles of the halter and bit. The mare was a brilliant chestnut, so red that it matched her hair, it’s mane only a scant few shades darker. It pawed the ground beside Kostōba, nickering and also looking for treats.

“What’s this?”

Aegon turned, eyes wide as if he’d been caught, a sleepy smile on his face. She was no longer mad at him, of course, but the forced distance over their travels was frustrating, in addition to the misery of frequently having to sleep outdoors, no matter how comfortable the tents were. It made tempers shorter, and the stress of everything that was to come was fraying at her.

Aegon closed the distance between them, cupping her face in his hands, and the touch immediately had her shoulders relaxing and she sighed as he kissed her. Chastely, but it was Aegon and his teeth snuck in a quick nibble before he pulled back. She did her best to hide her pout, tasting the wine he’d had that morning on her mouth. Abby licked her lips, blushing at the look he gave her.

“Happy nameday!” he declared, gesturing to the mare. Abby blinked at him, owlish and momentarily confused.

“Nameday?” What day was it? Time had become an endless blur of bumpy roads and the creaking wheelhouse. He raised an eyebrow at her, taking her chin in hand and tilting her head to look up at him.

“It’s your nameday,” he repeated slowly as if she hadn’t heard him the first time.

Oh! It was, wasn’t it? She sputtered softly and he chuckled, pressing another brief kiss to her parted mouth.

“Happy nameday,” he repeated more slowly this time, snickering at her lapse of memory and dropping her chin to caress her shoulder and turn her towards the mare. “She’s from the same stock as Kostōba. Six years old and well trained. She’ll be gentle with you and give a hoof to the face of any who should try to pull you from her.” His grin brightened as he went on, lilac eyes crinkled in excitement as he glanced back at her. Abby could see the hope in Aegon’s face, the nerves and question of if he’d done well with the gift.

Kostōba snorted at Aegon’s shoulder, nudging at him more insistently. Aegon huffed and pulled another piece of carrot from the pocket of his black riding coat. Abby reached up to gently stroke the velvet soft nose of the mare and took the second carrot that Aegon offered. She eagerly took it with greedy teeth, and Abby giggled as the velvet nose tickled her palm.

“She’s beautiful,” Abby said, giddiness bubbling through her belly, swooping at the thoughtfulness of the gesture, and surprise at how exciting it was to be given a horse of her very own. “And she won’t buck me off?”

“Well you’ve proven to be a good rider already, on dragonback no less, though it’s different with a horse, obviously. And I think as long as you keep petting her and speaking to her sweetly as you do, provide plenty of carrots, maybe even some apples? Oh, I think you’ll be just fine.”

Abby scoffed, but her smile was bright. “Endless supply of carrots and apples and oats. Understood, my prince. I will endeavor to bond her to me.” The mare huffed softly as Kostōba’s head came near hers to bump it.

“They look good together, don’t they?” Aegon asked softly, casually.

“They do,” Abby agreed with a soft laugh. “She matches my hair.”

“Exactly. That’s why I picked her.”

“And your horse matches your hair.”

Aegon shrugged, cheeks flushed pink as he scratched around his stallion’s nose. “I have good taste. Do you like her?” There was a furrow now between his brows as he pointedly asked her, her words not doing enough to convey her thanks. It was a guileless thing - Aegon wasn’t trying to tease a deeper showing of affection from her in his usual, playful way. Abby handed him her gathered skirts and he took them, confused, and she reached up to cup his face with both hands, his skin warm against her perpetually chilled fingers.

“I love this gift, Aegon. No one else has wished me happy nameday, but you did, and provided me a thoughtful gift that I love very much,” she reassured him, teeth catching on her lower lip as the words visibly washed over him. She could feel the tension vibrating through him, as if he couldn’t quite believe she enjoyed the gift, or was waiting for something to drop, or a dozen other things. She felt him shudder and relax into her and Abby hummed, thumbs stroking along the apples of his cheeks. The furrow eased, the tension in his shoulders relaxed, his gaze grew softer as he turned his head slightly to nuzzle against her touch. Her belly was warm, fingers toying with the softness of his silver hair, affection surging through her. Abby pressed up on her toes to press a soft, innocent peck to his plush mouth. “I love you, Aegon.”

“I love you,” he whispered shyly as his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. Satisfaction and ease seemed to fill him as she pulled away and took her skirts back from his hold. He cleared his throat, tossing his hair back from his face and reached up to stroke the little white star on the mare’s forehead. “Now we can go riding together - properly have a good race.”

“You want to race? Well then, we’ll have to come up with some good wagers then, won’t we?” The prospect excited her, the planning for things they’d do once the wedding was over and they could just get on with the rest of their lives; away from the Red Keep, away from the politics and the eyes that constantly watched them, away from everything that chased them in waking and in sleep.

Another bright call sounded above them and they both looked up to see Sunfyre circling, his chirps and clicks echoing down to them. The mare snorted and backed away, shaking her head at the closeness of the predator. Two of the stableboys came hurrying over to help calm her. Abby backed away, not wanting to be too close should she rear up, feeling foolish that she was unable to calm her horse, let alone understand how.

“He missed you,” she said, and Aegon laughed, bright and happy as he always was when it came to his golden boy.

“He’s a smart one, isn’t he?” Aegon grinned. “I was…” He trailed off, uncertain, and Abby pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

“He would not abandon you. That menace broke out of the dragon pit to get to you, remember?” Not that Sunfyre had caused any damage outside of freeing himself from his chains, and would not return until Aegon had gone to retrieve him before they were dragged back to the Red Keep all those months ago.

“He would most certainly not.” Confidence returned to Aegon’s voice and he cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting words of Valyrian and gesturing north.

Abby’s gaze drifted from the sight to look out past the horses to the rolling moors past them. The mist still hung heavy along the ground, slowly burning away as the morning grew, lending a murky sight of the forest that obscured the sight of the God’s Eye.

A twisting sensation spooled through her chest as she watched the trees. There were oaks abundant along the road, and as they drew north, there were pines dotting the landscape as well. But the great, dark forest beside them was different. The oaks here were giant things. Once, as a little girl, she’d ridden out with Harwin into the Red Wood. There were a few red oaks in the Harrenhal godswood - massive things that shot past the great height of the walls. Here in the forest surrounded by them, it felt like another world. The trunks of the trees were as big as the family dining hall in the Kingspyre. Uncle Simon said that the great round table had been cut from such a trunk.

Ancient trees that had survived the great heart wound of Harren the Black. Spirits lived in the weirwoods; she remembered those stories, and the ancient sentinels remembered too. They were here long before and would be there long after -

“Hey!”

Strong, warm hands gripped her arms and shook her. Abby blinked slowly, feeling tired and confused. Aegon was looking down at her; face pale, confused, annoyed. “What’s gotten into you? I was calling for you, Abby.”

“But…” As she meant to say she had not moved, Abby realized that she could not hear nor smell the horses, and that the sounds of camp were softer than they had been before.

“You kept walking and I thought you were going to show me something but then you stopped speaking,” Aegon went on, but his voice sounded odd - strangely muffled and then clear. She reached for him but her hand missed his arm and he reached for it, tugging her to him. “Abby, you’re freezing.”

She was always freezing.

The crowd was deafening and the drum beats of the parade only added to the din. The chestnut mare, now named Stranger, trotted smoothly beside Aegon’s stallion as the royal procession made its way through Harrentown. The scouts and messengers had not lied.

The crowd was large, not only the townsfolk but filled with those who had traveled far and wide to witness the festivities and hawk their wares. As they approached her family’s castle, the fields field with colored tents sporting the banners of the noble houses that had made their way to the God’s Eye.

Harrenton was not an exceptionally large town although little was when compared to King’s Landing. It was a trading post, a crossroads at the mouth of the Riverlands. Trade and travel that came south from Darry would stop here, as well as the trade from the south at the capital. The buildings were white stucco and plaster with the red oak timbers from the Red Wood, tiered three stories tall with steeply pitched, clay shingled roofs. Many of the ground floors were made from red bricks. Mud was in abundance here, and pottery and bricks were their foundations of trade.

Abby tilted her head up to the banners hung across the thoroughfare, the tri color streamers of House Strong interspersed with the black and red ribbons of House Targaryen. Those who could not find space along the red brick road hung out from the leaded windows, waving flags and banners, throwing out handfuls of flower petals from the winter flowers in swirling dances of pinks and purples, whites and yellows. Young children on their parents shoulders, too disinterested in whatever people were on display, giggled and reached to try to catch the petals. The people yelled for House Strong, they yelled for the name of her father, they yelled…

They yelled her name.

‘Lady Abrogail! Lady Strong! Princess Abrogail!’

Her cheeks flamed, her grin both shy and beaming, unused to the attention being paid to her. Abby glanced over at Aegon, who preened beneath his own attention, the petals that were thrown about the air catching in his silver curls.

‘Prince Aegon! House Targaryen! Lady Abrogail! House Strong!’

His lilac gaze found her, his grin broadening, all teeth and bright eyes, dimples creased in his cheeks. The breeze caught in her curls, fluttering the delicate silver veil around her face. The flower petals drifted and swirled between them, caught in his hair, in the silver and red manes of their horses, and everything felt like a dream.

Now they left the main thoroughfare and made their way up the switchback to where the castle loomed, and as they made the turn, the world dropped out as the vast, glittering expanse of the God’s Eye filled the horizon. Abby’s breath caught in her throat and beside her, Aegon audibly exhaled, momentarily halting his horse beside her to take a look. Behind them, Abby could hear Daeron’s exclamation of wonder.

The God’s Eye ate the entire horizon, glittering like an aquamarine gem beneath the cloudless blue of the sky. The only thing that interrupted the site was the distant, hazy sight of the Isle of Faces, obscured by the haze and distance.

“It’s bigger than the Whispering Sound,” Daeron breathed. “Uncle Gwayne-”

“Aye,” the elder sounded just as surprised, just as awed. “Large enough for the eye of a god, isn’t it?”

Seagulls called along with other birds along the banks and Abby could just make out a few fishing boats tiny on the water. She rose up in her saddle to take a better look, vowing that she would never tire of the spectacular sight.

“I didn’t realize how I missed this sight.” She laughed, unsure if she might cry from grief or joy.

“It’s the color of your eyes,” Aegon said softly, his gaze firmly affixed to the sight before them. He wasn’t even looking at her, just caught in wonder. It was a new expression for Aegon, and Abby was loath to draw him from it. She reached over and he must have seen her, or maybe he’d been reaching for her hand at the same time. “It’s endless, like the sky.”

He squeezed her hand and with a gentle command, their party continued.

Harrenhal was a scar against the landscape, the black stone stark against the green and blue of the landscape. With towers shooting up higher than the tallest of Maegor’s Holdfast, Harrenhal loomed as its maker always intended: Ominous and impossible to ignore. The twisted, melted stone that capped the towers were vicious reminders of the violence in the past, but life bloomed amidst the ruins. Sentinels and oaks, vibrant and lush, shot past the tops of the stone walls from the large godswood that butted up against the shore. Harrenhal held a small household guard and several called out from the gatehouse.

Making the final turn, their party was greeted by the half shattered statue of Harren the Black, only his legs and rearing mount left above the bridge. It started with stone and then switched to thick ironwood that spanned the dry moat beneath, and, as if to welcome them home, Sunfyre of all things perched above the gates like an enormous, golden hawk, calling out and declaring that this was now his domain. Stranger whickered nervously, hesitating in approach until Abby urged her on with a gentle hand against her neck.

“Seven hells,” Aegon muttered, barely caught over the sounds of the hooves on the wooden bridge and the creaking of the carriages behind them. Whatever else Aegon said was drowned out beneath the sound of Sunfyre’s trilling. The golden dragon was singing and it was a haunting tune that echoed along the stone like water over river rocks. The sound of it sent dozens, maybe even a hundred or more, bats bursting from the ruined tops of the tower. Distracted by the creatures that took to the sky, he pushed off the gatehouse, the horses rearing as stone debris fell in their path.

Abby looked at Aegon, eyebrows raised. “He can’t keep doing that.”

He frowned, half-offended and mildly concerned. “It’s not his fault the stone is crumbling,” he said, but the defense was half-hearted as he eyed the broken stone being pushed out of the way.

Aemond and Daeron, Ser Gwayne and a few of the Kingsguard followed them, the guards taking a station at the gate until the king passed through. The rest of the party in their wheelhouses were held back until the stone was removed.

The gatehouse was a great thing cut through the thick, black curtain walls. The way was lit with torches, the echo of the horses’ hoof beats giving an uncertain cacophony as the sound bounced around the tunnel. Abby’s gaze drifted up, the ceiling of the tunnel shadowed but she remembered Larys telling her the frightening tale of the dozen murder holes where they would drop oil and poisonous spiders and venomous snakes down onto those who tried to breach the castle. She’d had nightmares for weeks.

Aegon said nothing beside her, and the look on his face was one of bewildered interest. She bit her lip, a smile playing. He had only ever known King’s Landing, after all.

Tears pricked her eyes as the strange longing sensation that had harbored for so long in her chest eased. It didn’t go away, but she could feel the hooked edges of yearning, the grief, the feeling that she did not belong, that something was missing, smoothing out into something bittersweet. Beyond the great walls of the castle, Harrenhal was full of life. Beneath the great shadow of the ruined towers, a reclaiming had taken place over the years, and the notion soothed that bramble within her.

As the party passed through the gatehouse into the outer bailey, Abby’s eyes darted over the crowd that had begun to gather. Over the years, some of the ruins had been dismantled and turned into proper staff quarters. A new granary, the stables,meant to house a thousand horses, had partially been converted to a barn. Before them, the Hall of a Hundred Hearths loomed, rebuilt through the reclaiming of the ruined Tower of Ghosts, now only a few stories tall.

The focal point of the hall was the ornate, stained glass window above the colossal entrance. Along the top half of the circle, a weirwood tree was carefully placed, the red leaves a border around the top, the cream colored branches reaching wide, and the sun behind it sported the tri-color stripes of her family’s sigil. Below the roots was a mound with seven circles - each portraying the sigil of each aspect of the Seven.

The Andals had spread their faith when they had conquered, but here in the halls of her family’s seat, and through the Riverlands, folk noble and small alike found a faith made their own - to mourn the loss of the weirwoods in their subjugation, and the comfort found in faces old and new alike. Especially here, on the shores of the God’s Eye, where the last of the southron weirwoods still thrived, where whispers and tales of the Children of the Forest outside the North clung like moss to the stilts of the houses along the riverbanks.

Fluttering fabric caught her eye and Abby looked up to see the banners of their house strung between the towers, interspersed every two with the black and red House Targaryen, and every ten with the blue and red fish of House Tully, their immediate overlords. In the front of the hall, where the crowd was thickest, the short, white hair and broad frame of Uncle Simon stood out; he was clad in a rich, black coat, Aunt Mya beside him, her dark curls thickly streaked with silver, her gown red. Her cousins were there too; Garret, with his strawberry blonde curls, not much older than herself, holding his three-year-old daughter, Gwenys, just as ruddy gold as her papa. His father, Ser Edric, leaned heavily on a cane on the other side of Uncle Simon. As she went down the line, she caught sight of Wylla, clad in Abby’s colors in a gown of deep blue with a sash of green and red, beaming brightly beside Alyn Hull, who looked dashing in a jerkin of deep, blood red and black pants tucked into shiny, polished boots.

“Welcome to Harrenhal, Your Grace,” Uncle Simon greeted Aegon before his warm gaze found hers. “Welcome home, Lady Abrogail.” The title address to her felt odd, but this was a formal occasion. Two stableboys glad in House Strong livery reached for the bridles of the horses, Aegon dismounting easily as Abby frowned in slight annoyance at the yards of fabric of her surcoat. She’d shifted to side-saddle before they’d entered the town in preparation for an easier dismount but it was still daunting.

“Allow me, my lady.” Alyn was there, grinning at her, his green eyes soft and Abby returned his bright expression with a relieved one of her own.

“Thank you, Mister Hull,” she said, grateful, and let Alyn help her from the horse and set her safely on the ground. She caught Aegon’s brief annoyance at being denied his gallant moment and she patted Alyn on the shoulder. “We have some things your mother and a Miss Bri had sent up to the castle.” Alyn’s friendly expression moved to a grateful surprise, and she could see the red coloring his tanned cheeks.

“And I thank you, my lady. I am most appreciative.” Abby felt a giddiness at making a good impression with Aegon’s friend, and she left Alyn to embrace her great-aunt and uncle, uncaring if it was improper. This was her family, and even though she’d only seen a few of them not long ago, this was different.

This was a homecoming.

The warmth of her Uncle’s hug made her chest ache further, and Abby tucked her head beneath his chin, squeezing him tightly, eyes shut and for a moment, allowed herself to pretend that there was no pomp and circumstance and that it was her father who embraced her. Uncle Simon would never replace him, but he reminded her so much of him that she would not feel guilty for clinging to the memory. He seemed to understand, for she felt him squeeze her extra hard before releasing her with a paternal kiss to her forehead and then allowed Aunt Mya, who exclaimed, “A chroí! Tá cuma álainn ort,” before she was wrapped in a cloud of softness and the smell of lilies from her aunt’s perfume. Her hands, shaking slightly with her arthritis, carefully touched the veil she wore and the carnelian necklace around her throat. “You’ve got that Westerland poise to you,” she observed, and though the words might have been taken as a slight, there was a fondness there. “Like your mother and that Lefford blood, but oh, you’ve got the wild river in you, don’t you.” Her hands gently cupped her face, and Aunt Mya’s dark eyes shone with tears. “They haven’t taken that from you. Good.”

“It’s good to finally be home,” Abby said, her voice thick with emotion. Joy, sadness, grief, relief, and a swirl of other things she could not identify. She cleared her throat, turning in her Aunt’s embrace to gesture to Aemond, Daeron, and Gwayne who had dismounted. “May I present Prince Aemond and Prince Daeron, as well as the queen’s brother, Ser Gwayne.”

“Ser Simon,” Gwayne said, sketching a bow. “I hope you do not mind my squire and I joining the household.” His grin was bright and disarming, his hand coming to clasp Daeron’s shoulder. “My sister hopes for us to keep an eye on my nephew, but I think it will be a good opportunity for my squire to also learn from a renowned knight such as yourself, Ser.” Abby bit her lip to hold in her laugh, appreciating the look of surprise and pride on her uncle’s face. “And Lady Mya, these are for you.” He produced from his green leather riding jacket a carefully wrapped package. “Your lovely niece shared with me how you once loved lacemaking. While this could not compare what you’ve made, I do hope you find use for this.”

“From the lacemaker who made my wedding dress,” Abby chimed in as her blushing aunt took the carefully wrapped package of lace. Aunt Mya’s features shifted into amusement.

“Oh, I like this one, Simon. You can sit by me at dinner, Ser Gwayne.” Uncle Simon rolled his eyes while Daeron stepped forward, sending a look at his uncle.

“And I brought this for Lady Gwenys,” Daeron said, not to be outdone by Gwayne’s flirtation. He produced a doll from his own coat, made from soft linen with carefully made brown yarn hair, and painted blue eyes with a felt crown on her head.

“Thank you very much, my prince,” Garret said, shifting Gwenys in his arms. “Can you say thank you to Prince Daeron?” Gwenys’ eyes were large in her face, gnawing shyly on her lip as she snuggled into her father, unsure of what to make of all the strange people. Daeron held the doll up higher, taking the little hand to wave at the child.

“Hello, Lady Gwenys,” Daeron said in a silly voice, blonde hair falling into his blue eyes, his own cheeks pink at all the attention. “Will you be my new friend?”

That drew the little girl out of her shyness, bubbling with giggles and reached for the toy with grabby little fingers. “Fank you!” she shouted, squealing as she clutched at the toy. Abby felt Aegon at her back and shivered as he leaned down to brush his lips against her ear.

“Was I meant to bring a gift?” he asked, his whisper harsh with anxiety. Abby pressed her lips firmly together to hold back her giggle and turned into his hold, a kiss brushed to his cheek.

“You’re fine. There’s plenty of time. I think it’ll have more meaning after the wedding.”

Abby’s gaze briefly took in the arrival of the carriages that held the king and queen, and the small council absent Ser Tyland. He’d left court with her grandfather to Castamere where his wife, Elayna, was ready to give birth to their children. Twins had been born, according to the raven that Abby had received from her cousin, and Elayna was sorry she could not bring them, but it would be nice to see her. Lady Elayna preferred the freedom of Castamere, and Abby could not blame her, not when being here among the half ruin of Harrenhal had revitalized her in a way she could not describe.

The crowd all lowered themselves in deference as the king was helped from the wheelhouse. Travelling had been difficult for him, and the progress had taken as much time as it could in order to keep him comfortable. He clutched his cane, squinting in the afternoon sun, the light catching upon his golden crown. The expression on his pale, mottled face was difficult for Abby to read, and she wondered if he was thinking about the last time he was here, when the lords of the realm declared him king over Princess Rhaenys and her son.

Larys appeared from the next carriage with Lord Jasper Wylde and the Grand Maester, a placid smile on his own features. “Uncle, you’ve outdone yourself,” he complimented. Abby noticed then that her uncle’s smile tightened, no longer meeting his eyes as he regarded Larys.

“It has been some time since our house has something so wonderful to celebrate. Not since Abrogail’s birth, I think. After so much tragedy, these halls benefit from the festivities.”

“We are looking forward to them, Ser Simon,” the queen smiled, her hand fluttering to the king’s arm. “It has been a long journey, and the king needs rest and recuperation. We shall reconvene for supper?” It was not a request. Alicent Hightower could command with a smile, and all the authority afforded to her as the mother of the realm.

“Of course, your graces,” Aunt Mya said with a smile. She clapped her hands and there was a flurry of activity, the king’s wheeled chair being brought out while Uncle Simon explained they had easily accessible rooms for the king so his time here would be comfortable.

Then there was a flurry of raven hair and blue wool as Wylla’s decorum barely kept her from completely barrelling into Abby and she clutched her friend, embracing her tightly and burying her face into her shoulder. She smelled of cinnamon and spice, familiar and comforting.

“Oh, I’ve missed you,” she cried, Wylla giving her a tight squeeze.

“I’ve missed you too! You look beautiful.” Abby pulled back and Wylla pinched her chin with a playful look on her fox features, the little scar along her mouth pulling at the smile on her face. She pushed her hand away with a shake of her head, hooking their arms together.

“As do you! Is this a new dress?” Wylla hummed in the affirmative and led the way across the tightly packed gravel. Aegon and Alyn fell in behind them, and behind them, the rest of her ladies followed. The king and queen and the rest of their immediate party were being led into the closest tower - what was ominously referred to as the Tower of Dread.

It was where Athair and Harwin had died.

As she watched the king and queen enter the tower, something ugly curled in her chest. ‘Good’, she thought savagely, though altogether unlike her. She hoped the ghosts that slept there would haunt them. The queen would not treat her so unkindly if her father were still here. The king? Well, he deserved a good haunting. Let the ghost of Lord Maegor Towers terrorize him during his stay.

The main hall at the foot of the Kingspyre Tower was a bustle of activity. Servants in the House Strong livery hurried to and fro from the small kitchens beneath the tower, sending out refreshment to the new arrivals.

“As soon as we had word of your arrival, I had a bath readied,” Wylla said. “There’s the bathhouses, of course, but I thought you’d like some private time.”

“That does sound nice,” she sighed, heading up the staircase. The next floor above the hall held the galleries and the library. Precious things that her father had loved, and his father before him.

‘What if fire seeks to claim me here? As it had them?’

The fear was ugly and painful and squeezed the breath from her lungs with its sudden onset. Wylla’s voice was muffled in her ears as she stood frozen in the stairwell.

“In the black of night, the dragon did rise.”

“What?” she choked out, turning to look through the open doors of the gallery. It was not Wylla’s voice. Abby could not even be sure it was a woman’s voice. She tugged away from Wylla’s hold to the open archway but a firm grip on her arm tugged her back. Aegon stroked her cheek, drawing her attention back to him. Abby’s cheeks colored. “I heard… I thought…”

“It’s just the wind,” he told her.

“Unfamiliar sounds,” Wylla chimed in, coming to her other side, although her eyes narrowed at her friend’s discomfort. “Come, we’ll get you settled into the bath and you can lay down. A lazy lie in.”

Abby nodded, mouth shut as everyone stared at her with worry and confusion. Catching the brief look Wylla and Aegon exchanged, Abby tugged away. She felt judged, as she had felt that morning when Aegon had shaken her out of whatever haze had taken hold of her. It was one thing to have such a lapse in front of him, but now here she was in front of their household, so many eyes on her, confused and curious. Gathering her heavy skirts in her arms, she soldiered forward, desperate to get out of her gown. If she could, she would have stripped from the surcoat in the stairway itself, but she would have gotten tangled in the fabric and likely tumbled down the stairs.

What an auspicious start to the festivities; a tragic bride felled by a broken neck.

She ignored the call of her name behind her, climbing past Uncle Simon’s apartments and office to the landing of what had once been her mother’s rooms. They were rooms that might have belonged to Rhaenyra Targaryen in another life, or Sabitha Frey or Alysanne Blackwood, or any dozens of young women in the Riverlands her brother could have taken to wife.

None of this should be hers. This castle, these lands, were not her birthright.

They were drenched in ash and screams and the knowledge of this was grasping her tighter with every step she took before she burst through the doors of her apartments. Afternoon light streaked through the large doors that opened out onto the multilevel balcony that went from her rooms up to Aegon’s chambers. Beyond would be the beautiful sight of the God’s Eye, but for now, it was the brilliant blue sky and the roses that crept along the stone and woodwork. Low couches littered the space, plush rugs faded with age, and before the fireplace and its merry flame, was the large tub draped in linens and ready and waiting.

The shadows beside the fireplace moved and Abby stilled, fear freezing her limbs until the face of the shadow appeared. The woman was older, older than the queen, mayhaps, with inky black hair that hung to her waist, a square face and storm gray eyes. In her hands, she held a woven circle of twigs, and Abby looked at the stick figure coming to shape in the center of it.

“Lady Abrogail,” she greeted, her accent like Wylla’s, like her Aunt Mya’s. “Did you leave the rest of your chattering ducklings behind?”

Buzzing filled her ears and Abby pressed her hands to her chest, fingers knotting into the fabric. “I… I… I can’t breathe.”

“If you could not breathe, you could not speak,” the woman pointed out, discarding her wood weaving on the chair. She closed the distance and grabbed Abby’s hands. “You speak, therefore you breathe. I hear your gasping. So keep doing that.”

Hands joined the woman’s to help her out of the surcoat and work the laces on her kirtle. Her vision was dark and hazy around the edges and she continued to heave and gulp for air. She swooned and arms caught her.

“What did she say, Alys?” she heard Wylla ask.

“A tincture from my chest,” was the answer. “The one in the blue bottle. And the smelling salts.” Alys River tsked and her face shimmered before her as she backed Abby to the low couch. “If we shove you in that bath now, you’ll faint and are liable to drown. A bride felled by her bathwater. What a tragic end.”

Abby blinked, her mouth dry. “What did you…”

“Alys likes to be cryptic,” Wylla’s voice drifted to her through the buzzing in her ears. She let herself be shuffled around and moved as if she were no more than a ragdoll onto the chaise, her legs propped up higher than her head on a pile of cushions. Time passed in a haze as the dizziness and the rushing passed. Alys sat on the couch beside her, holding a goblet to her mouth and Abby grimaced at the strangely sweet and medicinal taste of the thin, red liquid. Her limbs tingled and the drunken feeling gave way to a more relaxed sensation. Alys’ large, slate-gray eyes filled her vision and the elder woman tilted her head, appraising her.

“I cannot call you Little Lady anymore, can I?” she asked, but Abby didn’t think it was much of a question. “Although, you are still littler than me, wee beast.”

“Oh, so she calls you that as well?” Wylla’s voice drifted from somewhere behind the couch. “Do you feel like you can get in the bath now?”

Alys helped her up and held the goblet to her mouth once more, feeding her the strange liquid. “Someone should tell the princeling that his lady is all right, I can hear him pacing.”

“Hear him?” Sarra Frey’s voice chimed in, confused. Abby smiled wanly at Wylla as the elder girl helped her out of her chemise and into the tub. The water was still plenty warm, but not the scalding, steaming heat that it had been from when she first came into the room. “But he’s so far away.”

“You’re just not listening close enough,” Alys said and passed her the goblet. “Make sure the coinín beag drinks all of this.” The door shut behind the woman and Abby settled against the back of the tub, Wylla’ pinning her hair up.

“Doesn’t Aegon call you little rabbit as well?” she murmured against her ear.

Abby did not answer.

The confused look the servant gave Jace when he asked where the family crypts were was not something that would normally bother him, but there was no reason that Prince Jacaerys Velaryon should be asking where the family crypts of his host were.

The look in Ser Simon Strong and his wife’s eyes upon seeing him still stuck with Jace, and he tried not to keep looking over his shoulder as he strode down the gravel pathway through the family gardens. Torches were lit along the pathway, servants and guests still milling about, and the gardens were beginning to bloom as the seasons shifted. Lady Celeste’s mountain roses crept like a great, dark beast, along the outside of the Kingspyre tower, up to balconies above. Jace stole a glance up there, at the distant, flickering light behind the windows.

Abby should be here. She should be with him. This was more her family than his. Did he even have a right?

Jace straightened.

He did. He did have a right. Ser Harwin was someone in his life he cared for, who cared for him and his brothers. He had been gentle and kind - to them, to their mother.

Ser Simon looked at him as if he’d seen a ghost.

Goosebumps bloomed beneath Jace’s black tunic. Perhaps he was one.

The Sepulcher of House Strong was largely underground, but the entrance to it was a stone gazebo, just over a story tall, with seven stone pillars carved to mimic the twisting boughs of the weirwood trees. The branches held up the circular roof, the torchlight casting long shadows over the carvings of strange creatures. There was no door, simply smooth stone stairs leading into the torch lit crypts beneath.

At the foot of the stairs were a pair of doors, heavy ironwood etched with more of the weirwood motifs and little creatures that Jace realized from this close distance were meant to be the Children of the Forest. They were different from the drawings he’d seen in his books. These were spindly things, some with fins in place of ears, with large eyes and sharp little teeth. He reached to undo the latch but the door was partially ajar. Had Abrogail come down to pay her respects? Should he leave and return another day?

His mother would be here on the morrow, and as soon as Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen set foot in this place, Jace’s chance to come here would be lost.

The door made no sound as he pushed it open to slip inside and he blinked as his eyes tried to adjust to the deeper gloom. Braziers affixed to the pillars were spaced out every few dozen feet or so and as he quietly walked the path his ears could just make out the distant sound of rushing water, though he had no idea where it was coming from. Stone tombs were erected every few archways, and he paused in front of the tomb of Maegor Towers before he caught sight of the dragon relief nearby.

Targaryens were not entombed, they were burned on pyres, back to flame and ash from whence they came. But Harrenhal’s last lady was honored here.

In the stone alcove, a beautiful carved relief of Dreamfyre stood, raised on her legs, wings spread and her neck arched to call out to the sky. At her feet was a pedestal with an urn in the shape of a dragon egg.

Rhaena Targaryen, Queen of the Rising and Setting Sun. Mother of her beloved Aerea and Rhaella. Beloved by Prince Aegon, where their souls meet once more.

To always Chase the Sun.

The crack of a cane hitting the stone echoed violently along the walls and Jace choked on dusty air, panic taking over. The next tomb was that of Lord Osmund. There was just enough room to duck behind it and Jace crouched behind, his heart pounding in his ears.

“You are kind to accompany this night, Your Grace. I confess, when I extended the invitation, I was not sure you would accept.” The low voice of Lord Larys drifted through the quiet ghosts, otherworldly beneath the earth himself. Your grace… was grandfather also down here?

“Lord Lyonel was a good man,” the king rasped, his voice shaky with emotion. “The best of us, I think. No better servant to the realm than he.”

“Surely you yourself are the realm’s greatest servant, my king.”

“Mmmm, Lyonel offered good counsel. I did not listen to him as much as I should have.”

“My father served the realm with all the wise counsel of a Grand Maester and the knowledge of one of your vassals, my king. In the end, however… Even beneath his great wisdom, matters of succession were well out of hand.”

Heat burned along Jace’s neck and rushed into his cheeks. He pressed his face against the cold, stone tomb but it did little to calm him.

Driftmark. It always came back to Driftmark. It came back to screaming and blood. It came back to his words. Yes, the words of a child, but his words that he knew, without question, would prevent punishment.

‘He called us bastards.’

With such a simple sentence, Jace watched, clutched in his mother’s arms, as the king’s ire went from Aemond’s wound to the accusations that had chased Jace and his siblings all their lives. Words that he knew were cruel, that upset his mother, yet words that spoke true. Lord Lyonel had stood, struck and silent beside the Driftwood throne, and Ser Harwin had lingered by the door, unarmored and disheveled given the late hour it had been. As old as he was now, Jace knew. He knew. He knew.

Ser Simon had looked at him as if Jace were a ghost.

Jace reached up and gripped the edge of the tomb of his blood, feeling the burn of Vermax inside of him with every beat of his heart, loudly thumping in his ears.

“I did not want it to happen that way, Larys,” King Viserys finally spoke, his voice mournful and heavy.

“I know, my king. Only a Targaryen can truly master the dangers of flame. Mere mortals such as those who strove to follow your wishes could only wish to wield such understanding.” The sound of scraping metal grated on Jace’s nerves. He hit his head against the tomb and had to shove his fist in his mouth to keep from crying out.

“Only Ser Harwin-” the king began and then stopped. Jace could see the long throw of their shadows along the stone floor. They weren’t moving.

“Whatever tragedies befell, they have brought us here, my king. Have the wounds not healed as you had hoped? Your daughter and brother arrive here with their children after their long absence. Our houses will be joined in only a few days. The match you and my father discussed so many years ago is now far more advantageous, as is right, for the King’s first born son, given the unusual circumstances.”

“Perhaps you’re right, Lord Larys.” The scrape of two canes now. Jace pressed himself as far into the shadows as he could, straining to listen as the two men made their way back up the corridor beneath the eyes of the dead. He dared not breathe, he dared not make a single sound for fear of what might happen were he discovered. It felt like an eternity before the door shutting reverberated through the quiet.

Jace sat on the cold ground, frozen and still as Dreamfyre’s statue. His heart continued to pound in his ears as he tried to process exactly what he had just heard. King Viserys, a peaceful man, so afraid of any confrontation that his mother fled to Dragonstone to hide than maintain her presence at court. She’d sent him to do it for her.

He couldn’t escape the catacombs fast enough. His feet slipped along the damp stone as he raced towards the entrance. Ser Harwin would forgive him, he was certain. Now? Now, he needed to get away as fast as possible. He tripped hard up the stone stairs, his left knee and shin screaming in agony before he made it up and forced himself to slow down so as not to attract attention. What would it say to see the king’s heir racing through the gardens of Harrenhal? Jace’s lungs ached and he kept trying to remember to breathe. All he knew was that he had to get away.

How could he hold this? Should he tell his mother? What would she do? Nothing. She’d do nothing, forbidding them - forbidding him from speaking of Ser Harwin. Did he tell Abby?

It would destroy her.

Should he - Jace slammed into a figure, sending the two of them sprawling to the gravel.

“What the fuck, Jace!” Aegon snapped, aggressively shoving him off. He too was dressed for night in his own gray linen and breaches, dark circles beneath his eyes. It struck Jace, hard between his ribs, how much Aegon looked like Jace’s own mother in that moment. How much he sounded like his own mother. Jace’s palms scraped against the gravel and he heaved a breath. “What?” Aegon repeated.

Another breath and Jace felt the words strangling him, and could feel the tension in his face as he looked at his uncle, his childhood playmate, with wide, lavender eyes. Aegon stared at him and whatever annoyances were on his tongue fell. His brow furrowed. “What is it?” he asked again, less sharply this time.

Jace gulped once more for air and heard Aegon mutter something about panic attacks before the elder manhandled him up to his feet and towards one of the benches. “Get your head between your knees before you pass out,” he snapped, hand on his back to push him forward. In spite of Aegon’s annoyance, his touch was gentle, if firm.

Also like his mother.

“Breathe, you idiot,” Aegon said and sat down beside him, hand between his shoulder blades. Jace did as he was told, falling into the way things once were, where Aegon led and Jace happily followed. They could never return to those days, and Jace did not wish for it, but Seven Hells, it had been easier.

He did not know how long they sat there, listening to the lowing of dragon calls outside the walls and the shrieking of bats, the distant sound of water fowl amid the rushes outside the castle walls. He breathed in the cold air, let it ebb at the fire in his blood. He spat on the ground and finally sat up, aware that Aegon’s hand did not leave him until Jace settled against the bench.

“You said something but I couldn’t understand,” Aegon ventured with his brows raised in exaggerated curiosity. The quiet of the night filled the space between them, the gaps left when things had reached such a breaking point.

It always came back to Driftmark.

“The king…” Jace whispered, heat burning in his eyes. “T-the king, he… ordered the deaths of Lord Lyonel and… Ser Harwin.”

So... that was an ending. As always, I love that you're here, but the only way I know you're reading is if you comment! Comments let me know people are reading and are actively interested! So I'd love to hear what your favorite part of the chapter was, what your theories are, OR If you have no idea what to say, drop a tree emoji to let me know you were here <3 I promise, I'm glad you are. ALSO! I would LOVE to hear how you found this story! Was it through the AO3 search? Tumblr? Did someone recommend it? (if so, where?) (we might end at 24 chapters. I'm not quite sure yet, I'll have to see how the next few chapters go for pacing as I don't want to inundate y'all) Shoutout to @queen--kenobi for allowing me to borrow the lovely Elayna Reyne! Baby girl is here!

[ Next Chapter ]

[randomprosho]

"I don't support it in real life!"CW: talk of sexualizing minors, slight rant

Then why write about it? If for coping purposes, why post it online for others (especially actual predators) to see and consume? Then why portray those things in a positive light instead of condemning them?And you're seriously going to tell me that just because as an adult (1) you want to see a fictional minor (that mind you, is usually designed to resemble an actual child) depicted in sexual situations doesn't mean you don't share that same view concerning children in real life? You find fictional minors attractive but not real ones? Why does the line between finding someone who is (and usually also looks like) a child sexually attractive get drawn at whether the child is real or not? I'm not calling anyone pedophiles, but if the shoe fits...(1) No I am not talking about 18 y/os finding 17 y/os attractive. Use your brain. Creating content of underaged characters is still questionable regardless of age, however.

"Just mute/block instead of harassing others!"I have nearly 70k people blocked on twitter, and hundreds of words and tags muted, I softblock and mute people who post things I don't want to see. I still see certain things on my timeline, usually because1) It's posted in the main tags of something I'm interested in2) The post isn't even tagged at all3) If someone quote retweets from someone I've blocked, I still see the take on my timeline.

"Antis use the same rhetoric as exclusionists and TERFS!"What exactly does being against pedophilia have to do with trans (women) exclusionary radical feminism?And what does lgbtq discourse in general have to do with not wanting minors to be sexualized?

"Antis harass people!"Apparently, proshippers have never done this before! Not once has a grown adult stalked literal children for calling their ships gross!Not saying harassments ok at all, but let's not act like the poor proshippers are being oppressed here.Also, I promise you, someone saying "x is a proshipper, please block them if you don't want to see their content" is not harassment. Writing callout posts and videos on underaged "antis", however is most definitely harassment but y'all don't want to hear that. People have the right to know if they are platforming people who go against their personal beliefs and morals. Choosing to hide that from people who would otherwise not want to interact with you for the sake of not wanting to "lose friends" makes you a bad person, and you should feel bad.

this is a LOT anon, my god...

First I'll say what I do agree with you on: I have made posts and even agreed with antis or neutrals on proshippers harassing antis. I have seen it and have hated that it happens. Proshippers like to use being anti-harassment as a shield to harass people. Antis have made posts without accusing anyone of being anything nor making any kind of assumptions about any shippers and they would get HOUNDED by proshippers. I've seen it happen. I once followed a group of antis because they liked the same popular ship I liked in a fandom (I wont name). They were uncomfortable with certain shippers and proshippers following them, I respected their wishes and left. I saw from a proshipper qrting that same anti group that I unfollowed because they made a list of proshippers for that fandom so people could block. I did trust these antis because they were anti-harassment. I do agree that a lot of these kinds of lists do cause harassment but there were proshippers going up to this group being immature saying to be added to the list. And yes, they were harassed but like I said, I did trust this group, they were peaceful people. I have had good conversations with antis because I feel like there are some that just want to be heard. So I listen to them. I am completely fine with having conversations without being labeled something I am not. That you KNOW I am not. I WILL stick up for antis if they're not in the wrong, I dont care how many proshippers I will be going against. I am anti-harassment in the truest sense. NO one deserves to be harassed, least of all, children.

For all the other shit you said: "if the shoe fits" It dont. Pedophilia is a paraphilic disorder where the person has thoughts and emotions that could potentially harm a minor. These people have intrusive thoughts to the point it causes them distress. I, personally, do NOT suffer from this. People have the ability to separate fiction from reality. What I see when I look at anime characters is a cartoon character. I dont see actual literal children, no matter HOW they act. I can only speak for myself, but I dont like actual people, let alone, children. I dont want to be with anyone nor do anything with anyone. I use to be a schediaphile, which is a paraphilia where someone is sexually attracted to fictional characters, which lolishota are. I honestly never was sexually attracted to lolishota. I only find them cute and when I like cute things, I like fucked up shit to happen to them because I like dark/taboo type of fiction. Even if something is shown in a positive way, it is STILL fucked up, isnt it?

When I post anything sexual about a lolishota, I am able to distance myself from it: Aegosexual.

There is a LOT of violence that is shown as a positive in fiction but no anti ever goes hard against it like they do when it comes to anything depicting sex. Violence is always seen as a good thing, while sex is bad.

It is a-okay to be disgusted and grossed out over any fiction no matter what. What isnt okay is harassing someone over fiction because you find it icky. I personally dont like gore but I would never go after someone making assumptions that they're gonna go on a murder spree.

I dont use lolishotacon as a way to cope because I havent been through anything like that. I just think they're cute, thats it.

btw, I am also blocking a shit ton of people on twitter. I block people every single day. I see NSFW art I dont want to see all the time. It does cause me a teeny bit of anxiety but I literally breathe out a sigh of relief when I block them so I dont see their shit anymore. If you're following ppl that qrt people you've blocked, maybe you should unfollow those people. you are the only person who can look out for you, unless your a minor, then thats your parents/guardians job

[narcissa-black-supermacy]

mutuals you’re thankful for in 2022?

(I even did it on anon for you!!!)

thank you DEAR ANONYMOUS FRIEND whose identity i totally do not know lmao because its not like i asked you to send this to me whattt that would be embarrassing

here we go (in no particular order, this is the way it shows up in my following list)

@fonkeloog : thanks for going along with my nonsense and being open minded and supportive about everything i do even if it's not your thing. love seeing you in my notifications, always <3 your poems and photography are everything, i sincerely wish you all the success with that in 2023. here's to another wonderful year of football and memri memes and kilt smut and complete discord chaos.

@heartofspells : holliiiiiii where do i even begin. meeting you this year has been a fandom changing experience, truly. i love everything you create even if sometimes it makes me cry and kick things. i hope things get less hectic for you this year so you can rain on us with more angst and poetic porn. thank you for letting me rant and brainstorm ideas and you're always welcome to dump your thoughts on me whenever <3 i never don't enjoy hearing those. hope we get to spit even more this year together.

@tracingpatternswrites : mallllll my LOVE. i think you're my fandom soulmate. everything you write makes me lose my mind and i care about all your pieces as if they're my own. thank you for being the push and support i needed to explore new things and pairings this year (here's to more threesomes and incest in the upcoming year ahaha). ALSO. we should. totally co-write something this year. something horrific and ground shattering. (once i'm done with all my oneshots). the internet would never recover.

@soloorganaas : bestieeee. what do i even say? you're literally like the only one of two and a half people in total on this website (one of them being me lol) whom i trust blindly and completely with our boys and with wolfstar in particular. it either takes us 13 business days to get back to each other or we can talk for 3 hours straight non-stop. we should do more things like hanukka wolfstar this year. push our (correct) agendas in this fandom. co-writing something with you one day would be the dream. maybe sometime this year?

@sweetpeasandlilies : bruh with the amount of stuff you've been through this past year i'm surprised you're still on tumblr akjdgh so HUGE respect for that seriously. i'm still blocked by like 27 people because of you lmao but good riddance i guess. ain't nobody gonna stop us. i live for your writing and for your shitposts. honestly. its everything.

@padfootastic : dude what can i say?? a breathe of fresh fucking air is what you are on this hellsite. and i know you're busy as hell these days but seeing you on here and your ideas and your writing (and your tagsss bruh your tags i read all of those just so yknow) is one of the things keeping me from losing my mind in here. if we had fandom elections i would vote you in as the authority on everything james potter and sirius black. i trust no one but you.

@mxlfoydraco : serra <3333 i live for your tags. you put drarry and amazing (actually diverse) fanart and Correct Opinions on our dashes and i love you for that. this place would not have been the same without you. fandom is alive and flourishing thanks to people like you who comment and give reccs and keep older fics and fanarts alive (and ship jegulus without disrespecting Sirius the MVP Black) and i couldn't be more grateful. please keep blessing us with your presence and the legendary Queue.

@leogichidaa : your writing is honestly ground breaking, and the limitless creativity of your genius ideas never fails to amaze me. if i had to hire a team of writers for a canon marauders story, you would be the first on that list - we need more people who do reg and the others justice with their writing. i can't wait to see what else you will bless us with this upcoming 2023 <33

@artemisia-black : it's hard being a person with Correct Opinions(tm) on a site like tumblr in a fandom like the marauders but you are doing AMAZING. please never stop writing what you write and talking about the Blacks, people like you and your metas are the backbone of this fandom. wish i could make everyone sit down and read those before they touch our precious characters.

@sequinhaze : yazz! very excited and honoured to be calling you a mutual tbh, after i've been stalking your blog and writing forever now lol. you are Wrong about prongsfoot but i forgive you for that because you're Right about literally everything else and that's so much more important to me. i selfishly hope that you never stop writing for this fandom because you offer such a refreshing take on most characters and your characterisation is always on point. ily. wishing you peace and happiness this upcoming year (and wishing myself loads of unbreakable heaven porn w feelings).

@broomsticks : jackieeee you're one of the rare people in this fandom who is completely open minded to new ideas and dynamics, and is the definition of a multi-shipper. i don't think i know one single other person on this hellsite who likes both remadora and wolfstar and blackcest and peter and snape and isn't afraid to talk about it. alsoo! your tagging system. duude. i wish my blog looked like that wtf.

@elvendorx : (i forgot what your main blog is sorryyy) - we didn't really get a chance to interact much yet but i just wanted to let you know that your metas on the mwpp in general and james and sirius in particular are absolutely golden and i appreciate them so much. wish i could make it a legal requirement to fully read and sign those before anybody so much as thinks of writing about j&s. looking forward to more of you in 2023.

@roalinda : thank you for putting prongsfoot on my dash <33 we desperately lack content for them and even the blogs that do post about them are usually still centric around a different ship. we need more people like you honestly. and i looove your additions in the tags, always read those.

@squintclover : rorryyyyy <33 your microfics and your writing are everything. i love it. always appreciate seeing you on my dash. i hope we get more chances to interact this upcoming year and i can't wait to find out what you've got in store for us.

@benjamin-ovich : i just want to thank you for writing what is one of the most amazing and heart breaking prongsfoot masterpieces i've ever read. i still need to leave a proper comment on that which is not just me screaming incoherently but just know that i've gone back several times to reread some parts. especially the first chapter and the memories. ((the scene where sirius tries to roughly "fuck lily out of him" lives in my head rent free. literally. one of the hottest prongsfoot scenes in existence wtf)).

[savvy-devine666]

Hiii stayed up for like hours reading your Corvus and Proxima fics to the point the dark mode made the white text look green lol. (Love your fics. All of them btw. I'm dead certain you're keeping the ship afloat. You write them so well and those two are villain couples goals)

Anyways, the tldr is that I played a game, Ultimate Alliance 3, that has Thanos + The Black Order as the main villains.

There's a part in the game where Corvus and Proxima go to beat the crap out of the X-Men and whatnot. And there's a cutscene leading into Corvus' boss battle where the murder couple are charging into battle, but Nightcrawler literally poofs in behind Proxima and grabs her and just poofs Proxima away and Corvus gets pissed. (He is literally not even a few feet away. She was just a few steps behind him and he turns to find her gone) (Gameplay follows) (Says that he's basically going to kill the heroes in her honor and the heroes state early on in the fight that he's insanely powerful and that he's filled with rage which is powering him and that this is not going to be an easy fight (it's not) (so you basically hit him ripping out Natasha's throat for hurting Proxima on the nose lol))

The next cutsene that follows is Corvus threatening to kill everyone and "Proxima" tells him no, that should be their master's honor (Corvus gives a very lowkey relieved/ joyus "my beloved") before she impales him through from behind with her staff and reveals herself as Mystique. And then the real Proxima blasts Mystique from behind and is pissed off for harming a member for the black order but basically we all know she's pissed off for an attempted murder on her husband.

Corvus bounces back (much to the heroes surprise and dismay) and the gameplay is the two of them attempting to beat the shit out of you before it turns into a deadly game of one sided tag with the heroes trying to get the hell out of dodge as the murder couple chases you down.

Basically the thought process here, several ideas.

1. Angst. Who doesn't love angst. Proxima did watch someone impersonate her and lowkey try to kill her husband. And like no way are there not nightmares at that possibility that hey, what if it actually was me and not an imposter?

2. More angst because Corvus and Proxima have like lowkey blind trust for each other and that was kinda weaponized against them because Corvus only let his guard down slightly when "Proxima" was there which allowed him to be stabbed from behind (doubt it would affect their actual marriage because they're both grown enough in their relationship to have it be an actual issue but in the beginning of it might be a different story)

3. More, more, angst, because what if Proxima had been suddenly poofed to oblivion charging into battle literally barely a few paces behind Corvus and he wasn't able to protect her. His back was turned, trusting she'd be there and then she wasn't, and she was just suddenly gone.

4. Enough angst, now fluff. Take all the angst and the murder couple can have fluffy cuddles and moments to comfort each other. (Maybe even something a little more spicy too considering how they are)

Anyways, thanks for reading my rant. Just needed to word vomit to someone who cares about the murder couple and you were the first person who came to mind. (If you ever want to use the ideas for a fic, go ahead)

Very much love your work!!!

WOW! Thank you so very much! It's always exciting to hear when someone likes my work

I'm famillier with the scenes you mentioned, I watched the cuts ceres on YouTube, I love them!

I love the ideas and I'm always on the look out for whatever inspiration I can find lol

I love how much proxima and corvus trust each and love each other they definitely ARE villain couple goals, the bar is set and that bar is HIGH AF 😂

I'm so glad you love my fic, my Guardians fic (which is very proxivus heavy) and my Endgame rewrite are my particular favorite labors of love lol

[wisconsin2002]

(Okay I'll keep this Short cause I'm annoyed as I had a better written post earlier for this topic but tumblr had an error and all my shit got deleted and I can't be bothered to write it all again as I just don't care all that much anymore) very well then lets continue

"ANDREA IS NOT LIKE AMITY BLIGHT!"

Thank you. I Almost forgot to hear that for the 455th time in this fandom.

Okay let me make things perfectly clear.

If you dont like Andrea. Awesome. I Respect that cause it's your opinion

If you outright hate her and think she should stay a bratty instagram live bitch.

Cool... Sweet...you do you man.

If you're chill and think she's redeemable but not exactly a good person yet.

EVEN BETTER. Completely respect that.

But PLEASE... For the love of lucifer

Don't go to every fucking Mollandrea shipper or Andrea stans looking for small crumbs of content of her and start saying

Idk where that argument even came from and quite frankly idc anymore. I'm just tired of hearing it because

YEAH YOU'RE RIGHT.

Andrea is not Amity.

But that still doesn't stop Andrea from following a path of growth in her life and becoming a more open minded and caring person. Many characters have gone down that path of growth and redemption way before Amity was even written into existence. Or did yall really think that Amity was the first ever character to get a redemption arc? And therefore every character who makes that positive change in their life must be like Amity? Nah fam characters have had and will continue to have redemption arcs way after Amity has completed her story.

Now the other argument I've seen is Mollandrea is taking away attention from Molliby.

(in general. I don't give a flying cockadoodle pickle who Molly ends up with if she ends up with any of the girls. I'm just here to see Andrea grow as a character. But I know there is Mollandrea shippers out there and this next section is in their defense)

Mollandrea is taking away attention from Molliby? Really? 💀

I know yall don't even believe that lie.

You sit here and tell me with a straight face that Mollandrea has had more content and attention than Molliby, even tho Molliby is 95% of content in this fanbase. Yeah I call bullshit.

Mollandrea shippers literally take their asses to Devían art and or Instagram tags to find content of the Ship cause there's little to none here at all. How did yall reach that conclusion? Count the fan arts, fanfics, and on top of that the content of the show itself and you come running back to me and tell me with a straight face Mollandrea has more content and it's taken away attention. Go ahead I'll wait.

Idk man. I wanted to bring up more to this topic to talk about but I've lost the care for this topic when tumblr completely deleted the progress in the post I was working on primarily the first time.

So enjoy this little "rant" I guess. Idk wtf I would call this tbh.

[tomb-bloom-noctem]

Ignore me it's time for me to rant because I'm just so exhausted from hateful comments. Hiding it under a read more so no one has to be forced to look at my misery.

I got a piece of (already now deleted) hatemail on my fanfic of Brothers, A Tale of Three Hedgehogs. A hatemail that was critical of the fact that the Triple S bois aren't exactly like their game selves. Honestly, I'm mad as hell that I write fanfiction, damn good fanfiction at that, and frequently get met with criticism that my take on the characters (Donald Duck, Sonic, Mabel Pines, Della Duck, etc) are "not in character"

I mean first of all, I really do attempt to BALANCE what the character would do/say/react canonically with where my stories take them. But damnit I'm not writing stuff that's canon compliant! Almost everything I write is tagged with AU for fucks sake. I am not writing little adventures that could go along side the canon, I am creating entire versions that are meant to be their own thing. No Donald Duck does not canonically try to kill himself in Ducktales 2017 and have to embark on a long mental health journey to recover afterwards, there's no fucking way to say what Donald would or would not do in that situation because Disney wouldn't touch that story with a 10 foot pole! Or ew why is Shadow still so hung up on the past in Brothers A Tale of Three Hedgehogs, why does Sonic still have feelings for Sally or why does he even care in the first place since their relationship has been retconned by Sega. Because I fucking want to write a story that takes SatAM, Sonic X, and a good chunk of the games - which may I remind you are all VERY different types of source material with their own takes on the characters - and rolls it all into one story. Because in that story I need the characters to have growth and change and be affected by the things they've gone through! Stagnant characters won't work for this story! Or why is Mabel Pines depressed in your fic, she's 13. Because fucking hell my dude, I was once a depressed 13 year old too! I know what it's like! So I wanted to write a story about it!

BECAUSE IT'S A STORY. I AM NOT BOUND BY THE RULES SET BY THE IP OWNERS. It's fanfiction! I am free to write whatever I want!

Like oh my God. You do not have to like it when I or anyone else writes characters in a non canon compliant way. You are free to feel that way. But good GRIEF what is the freaking POINT of pouncing into mine or anyone's inbox and saying how you're a bad writer because your version doesn't align with canon, you're a bad writer because you wrote the characters in a way I DON'T LIKE, on and on and on! Wtf! Do you people who do this shit also climb into smut fics and pull this same stunt? "Uh well ACTUALLY, we never see XYZ character engage in sexual activity so THEREFORE this fic is out of character!"

Do you hear how dumb that sounds???

I don't read smut fics so hell, maybe they are, IDK. That's besides the point though.

Just. Fucking hell. Have fanfic readers of today forgotten the old wisdom of "Don't like it, don't read it?" Yes that's normally applied to shipping content but god, please apply it to literally everything when it comes to fanfiction. There is this WONDERFUL TOOL at your dispense when you wind up reading a fanfiction you don't like like. It is called the back button. You know what is an infinitely better thing to do than write a hateful comment or fucks sake a series of extremely hateful and threatening anons on the author's Tumblr account??? Backing out of that fic and moving on with your life.

I mean fuck I'm very sorry for ranting on and on about this but it's 1:30am and I've already had such a rough day, I got real excited to see someone commented on my fic only to receive a long angry criticism that I'm not writing in character and that failure on my part is ruining their enjoyment so badly thar they can't even bring themselves to leave me kudos! Like, buddy! Oh pal, my good sir, instead of wasting your time, just LEAVE! It's okay to just leave and not say a word!

"Tombs, why do you care? Just ignore the haters-"

No. You know what. No. I can't. Okay? I work HARD on what I write. I don't expect to be everyone's cup of tea, I don't expect people to sing my praises from the heavens, no! But for FUCKS SAKE. Life is so shitty! I don't want to even exist most days! I've been having to fight all this mental illness for years without any help thanks to living in the middle of nowhere and I'm still frequently suicidal - I seriously contemplate checking myself into a hospital again sometimes! I would just like to be able to write whatever story I'm focused on at the time in peace okay??? I try to not complain that it's disappointing to not get much positive attention on what I write. But the frequent hate mail on TA&TA and now this on Brothers, it's E X H A U S T I N G. I'm TRYING to live my life and make things work and not be a completely bitter and mean person like my mother was or turn to her vices. I'm freaking trying to do what I can. I just CAN'T with this damn hatemail on my stories though or especially the god awful anons people send me sometimes, PLEASE just leave me alone if you don't like what I make!

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

this seems like a thing you'd have thoughts about. I'm annoyed over the recent rise in expecting an author to do something and getting annoyed when they don't. this applies to ships, deaths, ending. obviously being upset over them not doing something in fine, but I've seen a ton of people expecting the author to bend to their will. it's like the cosmic opposite of death of the author. 'the author is alive and living in your walls and must act based off what they hear'. a new book i've been wanting came out today and I hadn't blocked the tags for it yet and i saw a post that started with 'it's the author's fault that-' before i aborted and blocked the tag but i'm like yes?? usually the author has plans and if your (or even a whole fandom's) wants go against that, chances are they aren't just gonna....change the whole plan? i've seen this a lot for ships, or even in certain characters, people going 'this is the wrong narrator'. idk, to me it feels like you're going into it not as someone consuming media, but someone wanting to alter the world. and obvs fanfiction is great for that but (esp in certain fandoms) they expect things to be more choose-your-own-adventure-y? I also just in general think fans have become super obsessed with the concept of things being "right", so if the author writes something OOC (technically impossible) for plot purposes or has character growth in a way the fans don't want, the fans riot and call it poor writing. as a writer it weirds me out cause I *know* where I want to go, I *have* plans, and obviously they'll change, but I'm not sure the changes will be based on tumblr rants. plus for shipping, not everything is queerbaiting if a hinted at gay ship doesnt go canon. idk, this seems like something you'll have insight on

(to be clear, this ask will be touching on audience as it pertains to death threats, harassment, and other adverse reactions to characters and ships ONLY. nothing else.)

THE COSMIC OPPOSITE OF DEATH OF THE AUTHOR: THE AUTHOR IS ALIVE AND LIVING IN YOUR WALLS AND MUST ACT BASED OFF OF WHAT THEY HEAR.

hi, i'm alive and well because of this phrase, thank you for bringing it into my inbox. and you're right. i do have thoughts on this (though you've managed to capture a lot of them perfectly in your ask).

namely, that anyone who thinks a character is OOC is in denial. either that they've just sorely misinterpreted a character, or that maybe the source material just isn't For Them anymore. it's hard to reconcile with for sure, especially when you love a fictional world with your whole heart.

i can even see how the loss of control over something you care so deeply for could be painful or overwhelming. and that wound to the ego might make you livid. but it's just that: a wound to the ego. a loss of control over something you fooled yourself into believing you had even an ounce of control over, when you didn't.

you were always just along for the ride.

it's concerning that people would jump to say "you didn't do this right! you ruined everything!" to the author, rather than realising that they just didn't vibe with what the author wrote. there needs to be a way we can express a disagreement in preferences without making it a death threat.

or, perhaps more urgently, there needs to be a way we can all realise that expressing our every opinion loudly isn't always wanted or needed. because in the case of fictional worlds, our opinions often don't matter. in the case of seasoned and/or published authors, they aren't warranted.

i think authors can do a poor job in constructing character arcs, or keeping characters consistent through a longer series. i think, sometimes, they can use character decisions for shock value instead of something that is maybe more in line with what we've previously been told about the character.

but the fact that the phrase "OOC" even exists in the context of the original creator has always been laughable to me. ultimately, it's their decision how they portray their characters. it's their world. not ours.

you can choose to be part of it or you can choose to move on.

[futuregws]

They might be still lurking so if you don’t answer this on your blog I understand BUT wanna hear something interesting about the person she quote tweeted with that picture?

First of all, I knew at some point she’ll post a pic of them 2 as some kind of validation for shippers and “gotcha” to antis. It’s funny af that it’s a bts pic where I’m not even sure if that’s Joseph or not and they’re not even near each other LMFAO

Secondly, that person is also here on tumblr. I won’t write there name if you do decide to post BUT. This person often draws a lot of fanart of ExC ship. This is the same person who posted that art of them two flexing together AND in the tags said “I’m gonna draw nsfw art out of spite”. This is the same post that Grace reblogged (then deleted) saying “the tags made me 😈”.

Also like last week or so they DID draw a nsfw art of eddie eating Chr*ssy out… which got reported and flagged for adult content (obviously). And they ranted about “American Puritanism” and blamed disgusting/jealous/childish st*ddies for taking down their art. Meanwhile some blogs sub posted about what they said, saying that they sounded homophobic af to blame st*ddies for tumblr taking down their NSFW art as if tumblr doesn’t have policies against it

You know what, fuck it I'm gonna post this bc I wanna answer and it would be complicated to do it on a separate post, but before I say anything if someone could send me that persons @ on here so I can block please, and now onto what the ask is actually about and where to even begin, I'm not surprised that the person posting that acts the way they do bc apparently they are also a Joe and Grace shipper so I think that says a lot about how far they go and how obsessed they are, and this whole vibe from Grace's posts where it looks like she's trying to annoy or like you said having that "gotcha" energy with it, it's embarrassing, post whatever but don't act as if you're posting something out of this world that will make some people in this case "antis" be furious bc that's in her head and her fans heads and if they care that much to try and make us mad idk what to tell them, and about that last part I don't even have words to express how grossed out I am, first of all them coming out and complaining about "American puritanism" uhm girly you are literally posting explicit sexual content on an app that has numerous times tried to make those type of stuff go away, so I don't know what they were expecting from this, and second that's fucking gross, what's the point of drawing stuff like that, bc if it's still to "piss antis off" then geez get another hobby bc it's starting to look like a very unhealthy obsession, and the fact that they're making drawings like that when one of the characters is a minor, it's ten times worse, they need to get their heads out of their ass bc I really don't understand in what world making a drawing like that it's totally okay, more specifically with the characters in question, and the main problem is not even the type of drawing even though I do have my problems with this one in specific, If you wanna draw stuff like that go for it, but you have to accept that when you're posting that on the internet some people might get uncomfortable and rightfully so, not everyone likes looking at explicit sexual acts if you wanna post stuff like that with no problems go to the appropriate website, and the audacity they have to blame steddie shippers, I've noticed that it has become some type of trend to blame steddie shippers for everything even when they didn't do anything, it's like edissy shippers see themselves as superior and any other opinion or ship is below them and the fact that the ship in question is a gay ship certainly makes you think a little deeper as to where that's coming from bc it's not normal to target a group of people when they haven't done anything and on top of that for it to be a group supporting mlm relationships feels definitely homophobic

[epickiya722]

Honestly though, I frankly don't care for any anti-whatever BNHA Character/Ship stuff inbox. Simply for the fact that most of the anti stuff I see makes me shakes my head.

Anti - Pro Hero? Don't care.

Anti - Villain? Don't care.

Anti - Bakugou? Don't care.

Anti - whatever, I don't care.

Now if you do give me your opinion and I agree with it, alright then. Sometimes I do see opinions I agree with, some even made me laugh because it's in a meme or the tags for the post do be funny because the OP really be just be funny, having a good time.

Simply put, I do like to hear your opinions. But when you're gonna be an ass I don't want to hear it.

If you come into my inbox and say something like "I hate those church shoes Bakugou be wearing", I'm fine with that. In fact, same. Every time I think about them I have to go "whyyyyy"?

If you go into my inbox with an indepth character analysis, I'll read it. I will. But depending on your tone, is how I'll respond. If you just want to give your opinion and you are respectful, even if I don't agree I'll give you respect.

But if you go into a whole hate post with points that you're throwing out your ass and you're being an ass, yeah don't care for it.

I don't want to see a whole rant about about "why Miruko sucks as a character". Especially since I do make it clear that she is my fave and you know this so I know you're doing it to be malicious.

There is no perfect character in BNHA or any piece of media. That we all can agree on, right? People are bound to have opinions. And that's okay.

But that's what some of you idiots need to understand. They are OPINIONS. BASED ON FEELINGS.

We all aren't going to feel the same way so don't expect it.

It's why I don't care for them. Because I know some of you are asses. You don't grasp that you'll feel one way and I feel another.

Think Midoriya is a crybaby? I don't.

Think Bakugou is the worst? I disagree, there's worse.

Think Miruko sucks? Only Pro I know who doesn't have a squad of sidekicks and yet made it in the top 5. Personally, I think she should be #1.

Think Uraraka is there just to be a "love interest"? Uh, you must not remember why Uraraka wanted to be a hero and it ain't for Midoriya.

Opinions are opinions, leave it at that. If you're gonna be a jerk because someone thinks Nejire is the cutest or thinks Spinner is a cool villain, please step away from your device, go on a walk and rethink your whole personality

[lucian-evander]

A BIG, FAT FUCKING RANT IN ALL CAPS TO TAG YOUR STUCKY MUTUALS BECAUSE I WANT Y'ALL STUCKIES TO KNOW I AM HERE EVEN IF MOST OF THE REST OF MY SUB-COMMUNITIES DON'T GIVE A FUCK.

I BELIEVE IN Y'ALL AND I LOVE Y'ALL AND I AM SORRY FOR WHAT'S HAPPENING WITH Y'ALL. YOU HAVE BEEN DISREGARDED, JOKED ABOUT, SIDELINED, DISPOSED OFF, TEASED, BULLIED AND FOR GOD'S SAKE TROLLED FOR ALL YOUR LIVES. I DON'T WANNA BE THAT PERSON, I RESPECT YOU AND I KNOW HOW IT HURTS (NO I DON'T BUT I GET YOU) TO HAVE LITERALLY (NOT EXAGGERATING) SACRED TEXTS LIKE FANFICTION BEING USED AGAINST YOU PASSIVELY YET SO OPENLY. IT'S INSULTING AND DEGRADING BUT DON'T LET YOURSELF DOWN OVER THIS. I SUPPORT YOU AND NO MATTER WHAT, I WILL NEVER BE FOR THIS KIND OF CANON, I JUST WON'T. AND NOT ONLY DO I RESPECT YOU FOR BEING INTELLECTUALS, BUT I ALSO RESPECT Y'ALL FOR BEING UNAPOLOGETICALLY YOURSELF AND FIGHTING FOR A CAUSE SO MUCH BIGGER THAN JUST FANDOMS. THAT CAUSE BEING FEMINISM. THE WAY YOU'RE AGAINST HOW PEGGY WAS TREATED AND HOW HER ARC WAS SPOILED, NOT BECAUSE YOU JUST WANNA SEE STUCKY TOGETHER BUT BECAUSE YOU ALSO CARE ABOUT PEGGY, AND HOW A MAJORITY OF YOU DON'T DISS AT HER IS SO HUGE! PEOPLE USUALLY START HATING THE FEMALE LOVE INTEREST TO SUPPORT THEIR GAY SHIPS BUT A LARGE NUMBER OF YOU DON'T DO THAT AND I'M SO PROUD OF YOU FOR IT. IT IS SO IMPORTANT TO GIVE REGARD TO A SHIPPING COMMUNITY LIKE YOURS BECAUSE YOU'VE BEEN HERE SO LONG AND NEVER BEEN HEARD, EVEN BY THE ACTORS MOST OF THE TIME. BEING SUPPRESSED HAS NEVER STOPPED Y'ALL FROM WORKING FOR THE BIG CAUSE... SUPPORTING OTHER TRUE BELIEVERS AND EMBRACING MARVEL CANON AS IT IS BY THE END OF THE DAY AND HAVE NEVER TRIED TO GET IT ALTERED (EVEN THOUGH I'M PRETTY SURE Y'ALL CAN GO BIG ENOUGH TO PULL EVEN THAT OFF AND I RESPECT). Y'ALL FIGHT BACK BUT QUIET DOWN BECAUSE YOU'VE DEDICATED SO MUCH TIME AND TEARS TO THIS FANDOM, WATCHED MOVIES, GIVEN THEORIES, DAMN INSPIRED THEORIES AND BEEN OVERALL GODPARENTS TO SO MANY MARVELITES AND SHIPPERS AND NEVER RETALIATED FOR CHILDISH STUFF. YOU ONLY DEMAND THE RIGHT TO BE HEARD AND I HEAR YOU AND I'M HERE EVEN IF A FUCKING STONY LIKE ME DOESN'T MATTER TO YOU AND YOU MIGHT HATE ME BUT I LOVE Y'ALL. YOU ARE IMPORTANT TO CANON, TO FANON AND TO THE ENTIRE FANDOM.

STUCKIES DESERVE A WIN. RULE THAT OUT. UNDERSTATEMENT, SORRY.

STUCKIES DESERVE THE WHOLE GODDAMN WORLD. THANK YOU. AMEN.

FIRST : THANKS !!!

Second : you of course matter whatever your ships and probably even more given what your ships are when you say ''marvel sucks for doing that to stucky shippers'' when you're not even invested

(Btw this is maybe a personal opinion but i would actually respect you if you shipped the notpest of my notps which isn't even the case given i'm perfectly OK with sambucky and stony, like the stony fandom is talented af by example i just reblog their fanarts on my side blog instead and isn’t really invested in the ship 🤷🏻‍♂️)

Third : well i guess this is for you, fellow stucky shipper who will find it in the tags 😁⬆️ (for context it's about the first episode of what if )

Fourth : omg cole please breath 😂 so many caps 😂

[ultrahamilham]

You tagged me in a thing and I had a stroke, bless you

I get all Pikachu meme whenever I see you in my dash and you've referred to me and acknowledged my existence because it is literally the best thing ever, I have a mini stroke every time

Three ships: Jamilton, Jamilams and Jamilmads (would've said lams but then it just sounds like I'm saying the same ship in three different ways lol)

Last song: Uhh, I don't listen to music much, but Ultimately by Khai dreams

Last movie: The Hunchback of Notre dame

Currently craving: Sushi, oddly enough (I haven't had it in about nine years but still, want)

Currently reading: The Da Vinci code, and about five different fanfictions

About a very late answer to your question (My family has COVID, which is shocking to hear, or so I'm told, but they're recovering and they fortunately had a mild case and no one has any history of disease so they're going to be okay! That's what the doctor said and I'm praying), Taco hell made me laugh really hard when I read it and really lifted my spirits because I remember being in not a great place when I started it but it made me smile which was like, a thing for me, and don't judge me but I think The three way was probably my favourite and I don't want to think about what that says about me but it was really because I love works that are that long (around 50k is always my sweet spot). I'm not sure if I'm remembering right and I'm so so sorry if I'm getting the title song wrong but that one Jamilton fic with uh, Gucci and fendi in the title was really fun to read ;-;

I also remeber the first work of yours I ever read was this comfort Whamilton around 1.5 or 2k where it starts raining and Alexander is on edge but George comforts him- Okay, I'm ranting now, apologies. ;-; (idk You're super cool and I want to talk to you like, normally, but you'll hateee me and I don't want that and so here)

I never really get a chance to respond as soon as I'd like, BUT I never get to and if you don't want to know/care about my life- please skip to the next paragraph thank you. So, I did end up watching Snowpiercer! I watched all ten episodes in one day which is iffy to say the least, but I'm still alive! I did love it. And I've been alright- a bit anxious with everything, but I've been giving my tests and uni and stuff. Yesterday, I was about to go to the vet when u realised about two minutes into the ride that I forgot my dog so that was embarrassing. Almost competing with the time I dropped my phone and then followed it, dropping to my knees and immediately bursting into tears (Nothing even happened to my phone!). So if you read this, thank you again.

I wanted to ask how you were doing too! If you don't mind xxx

And as for the fanfic writer asks, would you mind answering 50 ;-;

Wgjfvqkcwkh also I heard about you and Henni getting married so CONGRATULATIONS that is the most amazing, sweetest thing and in honestly so f*cking happy for both of you. I audibly awwed when I saw that post and I can't believe I just remembered.

I'm so sorry this got out of hand with how long it is, I didn't mean for it to be ;-;

-shy anon, sincerely apologising for possibly ruining your day by oversharing and/or overstepping (also with love and congratulations for you and her)

I get the surprised pikachu face whenever you show up in my ask box ;-; It always makes me happy!!!

Okay but sushi is always good. The craving comes randomly for me as well. I didn’t crave it at all when I used to make it for a living, because I got so tired of it, but now I crave it every once in a while lol it’s really good ;-;

I really hope everyone is doing okay! COVID is scary and it’s no joke. Having it before was horrible for me and I would never wish it on anyone. I hope everyone including you is okay ;-;

I’m glad Taco Hell did what I was meaning for it to do! It’s meant to be lighthearted and make people laugh. It’s based off of my life and it’s actual situations I end up in all the time. It’s quite amusing lol

I would never judge you. The Three Way is literally the one fic I am most proud of. I could never judge you. I literally go back and read it every once in a while and go like “I made that... Holy fuck...”

Oh! Gucci Not Fendi is the title. I’m glad you liked it!!!

Rant all you want! I adore that Whamilton fic ;-;

Seriously, my dear, I can promise you that I won’t hate you at all. Believe me, I really won’t. I’m probably the most awkward and annoying person anyone will ever know and I overshare like everything. People know more about me than they really should.. Lol

I care about your life, I was the one that asked you to tell me! But honestly, snowpiercer was soooo good... Like I tried to binge it all in one day but I was trying to write as well and it didn’t go over well lmao, snowpiercer ended up winning! I’m really glad you watched it!!!

That whole forgetting your dog thing is a mood. Today I forgot to turn on the food heaters and I realized it right before it was too late. Almost lost $200 worth of meat... Oops... Lmao

I do that with my phone if I drop it even if it’s okay. I just freak the fuck out and cry before I know if there really is an issue

Also I’m doing good! I decided to just lay back and relax tonight so I’m having a few drinks and I’m gonna watch random shit lol I was up for 33 hours the night before last and slept for 15 hours after. I can’t recommend doing that, especially not when you’re like 24. I’m too old for that shit.

Hell yeah I can do 50! I will give you a sneak peak at the 3rd part of the three way... .-. It will be posted on Oct 19th!!!

Here it is. This is seriously NSFW lol:

Alexander looked down at Thomas and ran the fingers of his free hand through Thomas' hair. He licked his lips as he watched Thomas work his tongue expertly inside George. "You're such a good boy Thomas, you're already wrecking him." He purred. 

Thomas let out a low moan and kept up the work, getting a little more aggressive. Alexander could feel himself getting hard in his pants at the sight coupled with George's shameless moans. Alexander looked back at George's face and grinned a bit. "Are you proud of us, Daddy?" He asked. 

George pressed his forehead against the headrest and panted as Thomas wrecked him. He tried to push back against Thomas to no avail. "Fuck… Y-yes… Yes you two did so good… Please… Please do as you wish… Whatever you choose, do it… I will take whatever you give me, you de-deserve it…" George bit out desperately.

Alexander grinned in delight at that. He looked at Thomas who looked just as excited from what George just said. He then touched Thomas' shoulder. "Alright, that's enough babe. I'm going to stretch him, then we can give him a good spanking. Why don't you undress for me? I have a little treat for you." He purred.  -END of the preview.

Thank you so much! We are so freaking happy that it’s happening. We were planning it more today! It’s so amazing ugh.

I appreciate it all the same! It’s not too long for me at all!! Don’t you worry my dear <3 you didn’t overstep at all!

[clairecrive]

Christmas Au - Cass and Klaus

Before reading this new imagine you should know that this is an au based on my story. This was supposed to be a chapter but recently I had new ideas and this was not a fit anymore. so yeah here it is.

tags: @amirra88 @vampiregirl1797 (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)

"What are you doing here?" Freya asks when she sees me walking into the compound

"Is this how you welcome your guests? Didn't you miss me?" I say putting my bags on the ground and opening my arms waiting for a hug

She laughs and comes my way.

"Of course I did. I'm so happy to see you. Nik didn't tell us you were coming."

"That's because he doesn't know that I'm here. I came by to check on him, he has a lot on his plate right now. Well, all of you have so I came here to help."

We pull away from the familiar embrace and she pulls me to one of the sofas that adorns the abattoir.

"That's one way to put everything that is happening around here. But I'm not sure that you could help. I know that Nik wouldn't want you to get in trouble."

"I'm sure. But he doesn't have to worry about me, he already has another human to take care of. Oh, but this reminds me that I have to talk to him. Do you know where he is?" I ask knowing that I have to share this piece of information with him

"Knowing my brother's whereabouts these days is impossible. I hoped you, out of all people, could manage to track him down." Another voice spoke before Freya did and I turn around to see Elijah coming down the stairs.

"You overestimate me. But I can assure that he's okay. He's probably somewhere with Camille." I say wiggling my eyebrows when I mention her name.

I mean I don't ship them together, I'm sure everyone knows that. Despite what I think about them as a couple, I have to admit that she is good for him. Plus, she's a good person.

At my insinuating tone Elijah smirks and shakes his head. When he comes near us I get up and give him a hug.

"It's nice to have you here, Cas" he whispers after placing a kiss on my head.

"I couldn't not celebrate Christmas with you. I mean my favorite festivity should be spent with my favorite family." I say when he lets me go

"What about your family?" Freya asks when I sit back next to her

"I'm going to meet them tomorrow, actually. I'm not going to stay here for long unfortunately. I just wanted to check on the big bad hybrid and wish you all an happy Christmas in person."

Freya pouts when I mention the duration of my stay but when she's about to speak, another voice beats her to it. again.

"I forgot how much you like this festivity. It's absurd. I'm telling you sister, she gets excited like a baby." this time the voice belongs to someone I know very well. well, he's actually the reason I'm here. Klaus.

I roll my eyes at him. He likes to exaggerate stuff. It's his thing.

Obviously it doesn't go unnoticed by him, who I'm sure knows what I'm thinking, and for the first time he actually smiles at me. A big toothy smile.

I'm actually impressed. I didn't know he knew how to smile. He also opens his arms and looks at me.

This is truly a Christmas miracle.

I match his smile and actually run in his arms. What? Don't judge me, I've missed him.

We both laugh in glee when he catches me and I rest my head in the croook of his neck taking in his scent and enjoying his embrace.

One wouldn't imagine, but his hugs are actually great.

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming? I would've picked you up at the airport." he says putting me down after a while

"I didn't want to bother you. I know you're busy." I say looking into his ocean eyes. My eyes are drawn to the person standing behind him.

"Oh hi Camille. I'm sorry, this one likes to be the centre of the attention. How are you? I hope he hasn't bothered you too much." I say with a playful tone to her. Again, I don't like the idea of them together but mom thought me manners.

She smiles at me and shakes my hand looking at Klaus and then at me before speaking.

" You must be Cassandra. I'm fine thanks for asking, it's nice to meet you. I'm sure you know better than me that he can be a handful."

"As if you didn't like it" I can't help to think knowing that at this point she's deeply in love with him. 

"Oh enough. You have just met and you're already conspiracing against me. I thought you liked me, Cas" Klaus cuts me off and again hints to my crush for him

"You know, it's getting old. I've already told you on the phone that I'm into Bradley James now. Get over yourself." I scoff at him.

I smile again at Cami before making my way back to Freya. We're soon joined by the rest of the family and we talk about Christmas dinner arrangements and the imminent arrival of Rebekah.

***

"Ah here are my favorites brothers! What are these pouts on your faces? Cheer up, it's Christmas." I exclaimed wrapping my arms around Klaus and Rebekah's shoulders.

They were around the fire to burn their wishes. The mood was sour for that stupid prophecy about a family member turning against the others.

"I really appreciate your high spirit Cas, you know I do. But given the situation I don't it's appropriate." replied Klaus

"Don't be a party pooper Nik. Do you really think that I would stand by and watch while you're in a tough spot? I'm actually offended. I've got you girls. Now, go and have fun." Pulling away from them and pulling them away from the fire towards the carpet where Hayley, Hope, Camille and Freya were opening gifts.

" You do realize that we are guys, don't you" Elijah says chuckling

"Yes Elijah but there's also two girls. Why should we use a male term to refer to a group of people where there's the same amount of girls and boys? This patriarchal society is also mirrored in our language, we should choose words more carefully." For someone who refers to himself as a feminist, he certainly has a lot to learn.

He doesn't reply, just puts his hands in the air like he was surrounding.

" In the midst of your feminist rant, do you have a moment for me?" I hear Klaus saying from behind me. I didn't even notice that he'd stopped.

"I always have time for you. What's up? Need advice for your night with Camille?" I hint to the sexual tension that was obviously between them. And we all know what is going to happen when everyone is sleeping.

He shakes his head and pulls me to the side where no one could hear us.

" No I don't. And don't pretend you're the more experienced one. I know for a fact that you aren't." he says smirking

"Yeah you made sure of that. And by the way, I don't think it's fair. You're here getting all the action and I'm -" I couldn't finish my sentence because I was interrupted. In the least expected way.

I was kissed. By Klaus. Klaus kissed me.

[guaek]

I ended up on your blog again. there's been a drought, you see and I've been here more than I intended to. this is your fault. yes. and WheeByul. because, how the heck are they so friggin' cute?!?! can you do me a favor? can you just rant? like, just rant on how they are NOT sister-relationship. amuse me. (because I love reading your tags and they seriously do amuse me) you're an angel ;) -nesting anon>>lost anon

nesting/lost anon, u are so cute! y’know, i totally get u - there is a drought and it sucks, so i’m more than happy to oblige! honestly i hate when ppl say wheebyul is a sister-like (unnie/dongsaeng) relationship. its so ANNOYING BC THEY ARE SO BLINDED BY THE OTHER-OTP-THAT-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED and wheebyul are SO much more giving and adorable and PURE AND FLUFFIER. BASICALLY EVERYTHING GOOD WE DESERVE IN THIS LIFETIME (fyi this might be long. and possibly meta af - which i hate, so i’m eating my own words here - so i’m rly sorry in advance for this garbage spewing out).

the thing that i LOVE the most about wheebyul is that they have like this equal give-take relationship. they have this balance that is so precious. and what i mean by “balance” covers a couple of things: 

1) technical skills aka we have a clear and skilled vocalist (wheein) and a cool and smooth-flowing rapper (moonbyul), and these days in kpop vocal + rap duos are a recurring thing and wheebyul delivers that and more with chemistry on both ends. idk bout y’all but do you ever hear wheein do an ad-lib while byul does her raps? you can hear it during decalcomanie a lot. plus they’re both into hip-hop and they’re both responsible of dance/performance so that adds up to why wheebyul should be a subunit and that they will be THE BEST subunit of 3rd gen kpop (ok that’s a biased opinion whatever).

2) delivering fanservice, which is such a problematic issue in kpop (and i got into some kind of debate about it on my main blog), but wheein and byul have so much fun with it like they enjoy doing it as much as we love dying over it. for example, if byul does her stupid greasy moves on wheein, wheein acts like she hates~ it but rly she loves it and she loves it so much she makes a move on byul 3x as much, which leaves byul stumped (which is why i think wheein would wear the pants in the relationship). i mean because of this, we can see that they’re both little shits to each other its amazing it’s like they’re trying to outdo each other all the time aifoejr;lkdfa I CRY I LOVE IT SO MUCH. they’re not grossed out about it, they’re comfortable getting into each other’s personal spaces, and they do it nearly all the motherfuckin’ time. they’re so consistent about it (pianoman and 1cm) and sometimes as days go by they take it one step further like

and honestly the best one aka my fave forever BECAUSE FOREHEAD TOUCH?? U CAN SEE THEY LEANED INTO EACH OTHER DON’T TELL ME OTHERWISE BITCH

anyways, with that in mind, idk HOW ppl still convince themselves that wheebyul is a sister-like relationship. idk what they’re telling themselves to see and tbh it’s kinda sad that ppl are rejecting how blatantly…gay wheebyul’s actions are just bc of otp-that-must-not-be-named. i mean, even when the fans asked wheebyul if they do their own version of moderato, wheein said she’s gonna make it explicit af. so that should be enough to back up what i’ve been saying - wheein and byul are comfortable doing the most aka doing the gayest shit possible. to add on, i think wheein and byul are the touchiest/cuddliest members out of mamamoo (which is also why i think they’re so comfortable doing that fanservice shit all the time). i mean, they’d put a hand on a member’s lap/shoulder/arm, etc out of habit or whatever idek. and like, god, i think this kills me even more bc when u put the two cuddliest/touchiest members together u get what u see above and for a more recent example, look at them when they were on hello counselor (source for gif) (i might be reaching on this but who the fuck cares they’re so jaSFKDA PRECIOUS CUDDLY BABUS)

and there’s that “who would moonbyul date if she was a guy? answer: wheein!” thing, which may be a scripted thing but it’s not like it’s an invalid answer because byul gave her reasons also wheein looks like she likes that byul would date her tbh? that’s just my pov, idk bout you. ALSO rmr that one fancafe memo when byul posted their selfies when they just became roomies and byul said wheein acted like some newlywed wife and all. why the fuck would byul say it like that. and then you have wheein explaining why byul is the ultimate girl crush and most of the time it’s always wheein explaining why SO. also if u watch when mamamoo was on asc, byul explains that she calls wheein “you’re all mine/you’re my girl” which is disgustingly CHEESY. 

idk if i answered ur ask i think this was just me saying and somewhat proving my point that wheebyul is the best mmm ship. i think this would be a long ass fuckin post if i rly did explain the nitty-gritty details, i think it would take like 10 separate posts GOD WHEEBYUL BRING OUT THE WORST IN ME. obvsly one can say bullshit but honestly i think if i was thrown into the pit with a person who ships otp-that-must-not-be-named, i’d win bc wheebyul does the most and proves my point for me which is all that i need to get my job done.