#like first of all fuck off to hotd or something and stay back from the borgias hellooo

[borgialucrezia]

we need to study the asoiaf girlies who watch the borgias for costumes and then suddenly start collapsing over juan for killing paolo like girl who cares about that npc!! lucrezia only has chemistry with her brothers and i couldn't be more thankful to juan for getting rid of that peasant 🙏

[aegons-queen-rhaella]

It's funny, I read your post about fangirls making excuses for Daemon's terrible acts.

But as someone who is part of fanboy circles - being a fanboy myself. I gotta say that the Daemon fanboys are just as bad as the Daemon/Matt Smith girlies.

I brought up my theory that before "Blood & Cheese" that Daemon is gonna go after Daeron in Oldtown first - seeing as how Daeron is to Alicent what Luke seemingly was to Rhaenyra (her baby boy that she likes to cuddle, hold hands, and kiss) and that will herald Daeron's entry into the story and the war by either being recalled by Alicent and Criston for his own safety or by wanting some pay back on Rhaenyra/Daemon.

And I postulated that it wasn't going to go well for Daemon, and that Daeron would get the better of him and drive him off. Which tracks to me, because, Daeron is stated in the book as one of the greatest knights of his age and Daemon has always been more slippery and clever as an assassin rather than a fighter. Thus, Daemon and Rhaenyra will end up choosing soft targets after realizing that Daeron ain't some scrub little kid like Luke.

And you would've thought that I insulted their mom the way the Team Black fanboys came at me, angry and outraged that I suggested that Daeron was a better fighter than Daemon, or that Daemon wouldn't take Daeron serious in a fight till it was too late.

All their arguments have absolutely no basis in fact or in source material. In fact, Daemon is known to run from and avoid fights as much as possible, unless there was some clear advantage in it, or if he strikes when the opponent is weak. Where as Daeron spends his life and his military career getting into tense situations. The dude squared up against Hugh Hammer and backed him down. Something Daemon would never have done.

Anyway, my point is that in the fanboy circles it is perceived that because GRRM loves Daemon, it means that he is the "Bestest Evaer!" at everything, and that no one can beat him and there's some weird 4D morality to everything he does.

It's fucking insane the levels of idolization and cope that this character gets from both sides of the genders.

That is absolutely wild that people, fanboys and girls, equate Daemon being the best because GGRM said Daemon was his favorite. Daemon is a coward and doesn't have as much balls as Daeron and even Aegon II.

Even HOTD shows that Daemon is a coward when he beheaded Vaemond from behind. Striking weak aoppenents and ones with their backs turned will forever be a cowards move.

I like your theory that Daemon would go after Daeron before going after J&J. It would make sense that Daemon would think Daron is like Luke but he underestimated the youngest Green.

This would be a banger of a way to introduce Daeron and Tessarion and show that they will not go down without a figth and also set him up to go against Hugh Hammer.

I am team Green ofc but even I can acknowledge and not excuse the shit behaviors that members of team green have done.

Fanboy spaces are something I stay away from for a reason and I don't want to be in there and get attacked because I said something based in reality.

All the facts about these characters are stated in the book and if people want to read too much fanfiction and apply it to reality they need to take a break read the book again and assess.

[thephantomcasebook]

These fans are mad that the writers are lame af because ain't no way they've never imagined they wouldn't do characters dirty for no reason before lol

In all honesty ...

I've never seen anyone or anything get so goddamn feral, so quickly, in my life, than the HOTD fandom did.

We all sort of eased back into the franchise at first after being incredibly let down and betrayed. Then from 1x03-1x05 it was like being a part of the GOT fandom again with funny memes and joking around. People slowly falling in love with Alicent and kinda liking young Rhaenyra. All of us agreeing that Matt Smith is a great actor.

Then, around 1x06 to current day, everyone just lost their goddamn mind.

Suddenly there's this weird cult like hate or adoration of Alicent. Fucking Rhaenyra stans out here screaming the condoning for the murder of children and the need for it. You can't even praise Jaehaera - a sweet and innocent little girl - and wish that she get better treatment without some creepy losers shitting themselves in anger over it.

I was on discord earlier and I was showing them the kind of deranged asks that people send into my inbox and it was a large topic of conversation between people - some who may or may not work on HOTD in some capacity or another - about the level of vitriol and rage that cropped up out of absolutely nowhere.

Reddit is a hive of buzzing angry hornets at the best of times, but the level of hatred and anger in the ASoIaF fandom is just unreal and everyone who is a fan and even people who work on the show are noticing it.

I've got this major fucking loser we were making fun of today who is so fucking pissed off because I have a pet theory of A+C=D and they're so angry and offended by it that they hate read my blog and act like one of those sad pathetic "Reply guys" on twitter at every post.

There's also this person who we tracked down and whose blog we all had a good laugh at reading, who sends absolute vitriolic asks because they refuse to believe that Jessica Brown Findlay was originally cast to play Alys Rivers. There is all sorts of evidence from both Olivia Cooke and Phia Saban following her on Instagram, to the head costume designer and several directors from season 2 following her on instagram, to her even liking several instagram posts from the Costume Designer about cast fittings before someone on twitter noticed and she unliked everything.

But still, this person truly believes that if she "Stans" the replacement actress for Alys, that she's somehow a good and righteous person that can claim internet points for being the first stan.

And I think that's the weird part about this whole thing with fandom that we were talking about.

There's people in this fandom, on Twitter and Reddit, that somehow equate their favs to be linked to some sort of real life virtue. That there some sort of moral equivalency test to liking an aspect or character of this goddamn show. And if you fail it or don't line up you're not just against the tribe, you're all and all evil.

And it's so fucking wild how a fandom went from fun crank theories about Varys being a Mermaid to being evil and awful, because, you talked to someone who was around the volume for Pre-viz who heard something at lunch and you relay what they heard to someone who asked what the word is in the gossip mills these days.

Even when you preface and epilogue the post with it being a rumor and probably not true, they still gnash their teeth and post on Twitter and Reddit trying to get a hate mob together to come after your blog.

Mutha'fucker, I'm a 33 year old man who has been shot at and been in life or death fist fights with dudes twice my size.

All I have to do to kick your ass is ignore an app for a few days while I finish a chapter and watch retro anime and Downton Abbey.

Either way, it's crazy out here, Nonny.

Get strapped and stay vigilante, the hoard of rage zombies are out in force.

[marril96]

Wannabe

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Rowena wants something. You’re confused.

A/N: Inspired by this prompt.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian​

*****

Usually, you were pretty good at understanding Rowena, but her behavior today was indecipherable.

It started with a pout as soon as you saw her this morning. You'd greeted her with a smile, as you usually did when she woke up before you, and pressed a kiss to her cheek in gratitude upon seeing a cup of steaming coffee beside her tea.

The pout remained, unflinching, unchanging.

"What's wrong?" you'd asked, concern spilling over you. It wouldn't be the first time she'd woken up from a nightmare and, unable to sleep and with nothing else to do, settled in the kitchen and worked on beverages for the two of you.

"Nothing," she said in a tone that gave away there was something.

You didn't push it. If it was a bad dream, she would talk to you when she was ready. On her own terms.

That one word was all she said to you throughout the entire morning. You'd tried starting random conversations, tried bringing up the horrid weather or the lockdown you were stuck in, even told awful jokes that usually made her roll her eyes and call you a bampot, but nothing worked. Rowena remained silent. A few groans and moans were the height of her reactions.

A few times you looked away and, feeling her eyes burning into you, turned back to find her staring at you. As if she wanted to say something. As if she wanted to ask for something, but didn't dare say it out loud. She quickly looked away every time, cheeks flushing red as her hair.

Every time you asked "What?" it remained unanswered.

As the day went on, Rowena's behavior got weirder. When she walked past you, she made sure to brush her shoulder against you — hard, making it clear it was no accident. If you glared at her, she would pop her lower lip out in an even deeper pout, so adorable it turned your insides to jelly and instantly melted all your rising irritation away. You could never stay mad at her for long, especially not when she was being cute.

After lunch (which, to your surprise, she'd made), you'd sat down to read a book, and there she was beside you, squished against you like a child demanding attention. To say it was strange would be an understatement. Usually it was you, feeling lonely or just wanting to annoy her, who interrupted her reading and was met with a glare that had stopped being deadly years ago. She rarely, if ever, interrupted you. If you were busy, even with something pointless like a phone game, that meant you weren't bothering her, and she always welcomed that.

"What?" you'd asked in the tone she always used on you — irritated, but nor malicious, more dramatic than genuine.

Rowena had whimpered. She'd actually whimpered, whiny and all, like an injured puppy. And, gods, it was the cutest sound you'd ever heard. Cuter than even an actual puppy's.

You laughed. "You're such a child!"

A pout, again. It was hard to ignore, your heart clenching, but you stuck to your principles, eyes glued strictly to the book. Looking at her would mean letting her win at whatever game she was playing, and you weren't going to do that. If she was going to act like a brat, you would treat her like one. No matter how hard it was to restrain yourself from throwing your arms around her and showering her in kisses.

Resistance was hard, but worth it. Or so you wanted to believe.

Rowena made dinner, as well, and that all but cemented your belief that something was very, very wrong. She rarely, if ever, made food. If she couldn't order from her favorite restaurant, she prepared something, all the while grumbling and mumbling to herself, and cursing you out for making her do it. Today, though, she did it all on her own. No prompting from you. No unavailability of a restaurant. She just did it.

The food was delicious, which you made sure to point out. Strange behavior or not, she'd worked hard. Praise was the least she deserved. Each compliment brought a smile to her mouth, but it was quickly replaced by that persistent pout she couldn't seem to live without today. Somehow, it made the food sweeter. Juicier. The cuter the cook, the better the food.

Rowena had even done the dishes, also unprompted. She threw sideway glances at you as she worked, but your offers to help out were met with a "Hmph" and a turned head.

There was no satisfying her today, was there?

You were many things, but a mind reader wasn't one of them. If she had a problem, she had to tell you about it. As well as you knew her, there were some things — behaviors, tics — even you couldn't understand.

You paid the odd behavior no mind — or tried to, at the very least, for, as cute as Rowena was, it was terribly frustrating to be met with nothing but pouting and an odd whine all day. You had limits, and she'd crossed them all, and then some. If something was wrong, she was free to talk to you about it.

You'd sorted out all kinds of issues over the years. Granted, neither of you was the most communicative person, but you made it work. You made your relationship work. There were arguments and eye-rolls and arms thrown up in frustration, but in the end everything was sorted. You communicated.

Why wouldn't she communicate with you now? Was she mad? You were pretty sure you'd neither said nor done anything wrong, but with Rowena one could never know. The woman had a strong penchant for offense at the most ridiculous things. A recent forecast announcing lousy weather had offended her in a personal way, so much so that she was all red in the face by the time you'd noticed and turned off the TV.

For all you knew, you could have looked at her slightly wrong by accident and she was sulking.

"Okay, that's enough," you said, pulling on your night clothes, tired from a long day of grunts and pouts.

Rowena, clad in adorable red pajamas, was nestled on the bed, eyes big and bright as a puppy's. Toes curling up. Pout firm on her mouth. You hated yourself for finding her cute, even at a time like this.

"Tell me what's wrong." It was a demand, a cold one. No sugarcoating it. No more Mrs. Nice Girl. You'd tried to elicit an answer the easy way and were met with nothing. If she was mad, be it at you or the world in general, you had nothing to lose by going at it the hard way. You'd already mentally prepared for a fight.

She blinked innocently. Tilted her head. Crossed her arms in a makeshift hug.

"Rowena." Your eyes found hers, locked with them tight. Clear as day that you were serious, that you were sick and tired of playing games. "If you've got something to say, say it."

Her puppy eyes glittered, growing wider, more vulnerable. Tearing at your heartstrings as if she'd stabbed you with the sharpest blade.

You sighed. Must not let weakness show. "Seriously? God, you're such a brat!"

Hmphing, Rowena turned her head. She said something under her breath, too quiet for you too hear, barely a whisper.

"What?" you asked.

Her cheeks flushed scarled. A tad louder, she mumbled, "Chhhhh."

It was… something. Not much, but it was a beginning of communication. There was an attempt.

You frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"Cughhhhh."

You threw your arms up, confused, frustrated. "What are you trying to say?"

Rowena shot you her deadliest glare. She whipped back to face you, rose up into a sitting position, palms planted firmly on the bed, and, face bright red, anger seeping from every pore, exclaimed in her thickest accent, "Get yer bitch arse over here and cuddle with me, ye little shite!"

You flinched, startled by the outburst. Stared. Eyebrows rising, eyes widening. For a moment that seemed to last forever silence befell the room.

And then you laughed. You laughed and laughed and laughed, unable to contain yourself. Unwilling to, for the mere look on Rowena's face, ashamed, confused, made you want to explode with laughter.

That was what all of this was about? She wanted to cuddle? A day full of unintelligible noises and bumping shoulders, and all she wanted was to cuddle?

"Seriously?" you said, then burst into another laughing fit.

Rowena huffed, offended.

"Why didn't you just say so?"

More huffing. Pouting. No answer. Not a single word.

You grinned, heart fluttering. "You're so precious, you know that? So fucking precious!"

She rolled her eyes.

Chuckling, you crawled up to her on the bed. As soon as your arms nestled around her, she snuggled up against you as if her life depended on it. You held her tight, let her warmth spill over you. Basked in it. Allowed it to fill you up, to make your heart swell with it. She was so small in your arms, so impossibly tiny. Vulnerable like a child seeking protection, comfort, love.

You had plenty of that — and more — to give.

"My baby girl," you cooed, eliciting a happy little moan. "Next time just tell me you want cuddles."

A whine. God, she was adorable!

"I mean it. Just tell me, and I'm all yours." You pressed a soft kiss to her scalp. Rowena, in turn, buried her face in your chest. She really was a child. "I love you, you big baby."

It was hard to believe she was almost four hundred years old. Sometimes it felt as if she were younger than you.

"You, too," she muttered softly.

You knew. Good god, you knew. She didn't show this side of her to just anyone. You were special — privileged — to see her at her weakest, at her most vulnerable. At her cutest possible.

You wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. Even if she was a brat sometimes.

She was your brat, and you loved her for it.

Kissing her head one more time, you closed your eyes. It wasn't long before sleep took you over with her in your arms, comfortable and safe. Loved and cared for and cherished more than she'd ever been before.

You swore to never let it be any other way.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie​​​ @oswinthestrange​​​ @songofthecagedmoose​​​ @apurdyfulmind​​​ @getthesalt-sam​​​ @metallihca​​​ @salembitchtrials @jay-eris​​​ @hellsmother​​​ @elizabeth-effie​​​ @shadowgirl-vsb​​​ @rowenaswife​​​ @wonderifshelikesroses​​​ @xfireandsin​​​ @liddell-alien​​​ @hotdiggitydammit​​​ @lae-lae​​​ @darkhumorsblog​​​ @angel7376​​​ @cherrypierowena​​​ @evil-regal-vampiress​​​ @hellbentredhead​​​ @angel-e-v-a​​​ @a-queen-and-her-throne​​​ @carryon-doctor-lock​​​ @fangirlxwritesx67​​​ @rowenaslilwitch​​​ @midnight-lestrange​